


An assortment of short works

by satelliteinasupernova



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Random & Short, Tumblr Prompts, any specific warnings will be included in the chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2020-10-26 20:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 26,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satelliteinasupernova/pseuds/satelliteinasupernova
Summary: Collection of prompt fills: bughead specific.





	1. you look really cute in that sweater

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "you look really cute in that sweater"

“Jug!” Betty had been reaching over her bed to pick up her purse when Jughead had showed up at her door, having already passed the third degree from Alice Cooper downstairs as Betty got ready to go, “You can’t wear that!”

Jughead looked startled as he glanced down his typical outfit of jeans, plaid and sherpa jacket, “Why?” 

There was a tinge of laughter to her voice when she answered, “It’s snowing outside, Jughead.”

Immediately, he relaxed, and looked over at her with a look that was both affectionate and indignant, “Betts, this is fine. I wear this all the time.”

That was certainly true, but he wasn’t usually headed out to watch a football game from the bleachers for three hours. “You’re going to freeze.”

Jughead just shrugged, “I’m not going to walk all the way home now that I’m here. I’ll manage.”

Betty scrunched her nose in thought, unsatisfied. She paced slightly thinking of their options. They could grab something from Archie’s-

Jughead interrupted her thoughts, already guessing her train of thought, “Before you say anything, we are not breaking into Archie’s house. Fred already left, I saw him drive off.”

Betty glowered at him before another thought occurred to her. In one steady motion, she headed straight for her closet, opened the door and knelt down to reach for a box in the corner.

“Your clothes are not going to fit me,” he said, impatiently. She could hear him take a few steps toward her, and saw a shadow crossing over her as he leaned to look over her shoulder.

It was true that most of her clothes wouldn’t fit him, but she had stowed away a comfortable, oversized sweater she had bought for herself last winter. She had intended to wear it around the house with leggings, but had quickly learned that it wasn’t worth her mother’s criticism. Alice Cooper was staunchly against clothes that didn’t compliment her figure. 

Betty found the sweater underneath a collection of scarves and hats she rarely wore. It was soft to the touch, and just as she remembered, long enough to fit Jughead. It was also a nice, dusty pink.

Jughead gave her an amused huff, as she turned around with the sweater in her arms. He met her eyes with one eyebrow raised, “This is really that important to you?”

“Jughead, you are going to be miserable,” she said, stubbornly.

“Okay,” he conceded, and with a shrug, pulled off his sherpa jacket.

As he pulled her sweater over his head, he said, voice muffled, “It smells like you.” 

Betty winced, not entirely sure she had washed it before stowing it away, and suddenly certain she had made a mortifying mistake.

As soon as his head was through the sweater, he noticed her expression, “I mean,” he stuttered, “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.” Red was starting to bloom across his cheeks, as he put all of his attention on pulling the sleeves up his arms. Betty could feel her own cheeks heating up.

“Anyway,” he said, clearly trying to change the subject, “Now that you know I won’t freeze to death, are we ready?” He pulled his jacket back on, and glanced up at her. 

Betty felt her blood thrumming throughout her body. The sweater still looked soft to the touch, and there was something about the way he was looking at her now that felt…defenseless. He looked cute.

“I like that sweater on you,” she said, without even fully processing it. He responded with a look that made it clear that he thought she was teasing him.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “It’s a nice color on you.”

“Oh,” was his simple response. He ducked his head down, a smile teasing at his lips but not quite fully forming. He was always a bit awkward when she tried to compliment him. Her heart was practically blooming in her chest, overflowing with affection, so she reached for him, looping her arms around him and burrowing her head against his chest, into the soft fabric.

It was a beat before Jughead broke the moment, sounding a bit bemused, “Fine, I guess I can wear sweaters more often.”

Betty laughed into his chest, and then leaned up to kiss him lightly on the chin, “You’ll thank me by half-time.”

He smiled, and responded with a quick kiss to her head.


	2. I’m a big girl, i can handle it myself.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of prompt fills: bughead specific.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “I’m a big girl, i can handle it myself.”
> 
> Includes Gladys Jones, and complicated feelings about harmful parents.

Gladys came for the wedding. They hadn’t been sure that she would, and only knew it for certain when she showed up in Riverdale the night before the wedding.

While Gladys was pulled away by JB, getting a short summary of her entire high school experience, Jughead had pulled Betty aside, and whispered in her ear with one arm around her waist, “If she does anything that makes you uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to carry a conversation with her, I can manage it.”

His nerves had been building as the day of their wedding came closer, his creative brain thinking up all manor of ways their wedding day could be ruined. But Betty was a planner, she knew how to keep things running smoothly, and she was prepared to manage that even on her wedding day.

After all, it wasn’t just her day, it was theirs.

So she responded by kissing him, and saying soothingly, “I’m a big girl, Jug, I’m not afraid of your Mom.” The bright pain in eyes as he glanced away made it clear that he still was.

Betty hated that he felt that he needed to apologize for his mother, but she also had plenty of experience with that feeling herself. No matter what, she knew that deep down, Jughead was happy that his mother had decided to come.

Betty didn’t really know what Gladys thought of her, or of the wedding. She had never taken the time to get to know Betty when she had previously been in Riverdale. Even when Betty had been staying over with the Jones’ on a regular basis, Gladys had simply been pleasant. Their conversations had been limited to small talk only.

Betty guessed that Gladys just hadn’t been interested in her, hadn’t considered Betty valuable unless she could somehow be used to her benefit. 

Betty had been expecting that disinterest to continue, so she was surprised when Gladys came and found her while Jughead went to grab food from Pop’s for dinner. She sat down next to Betty and studied her with a hawkish look. Betty turned and met her gaze.

After a moment, Gladys broke the silence, “That boy has had enough heartbreak in his life, so I’m counting on you not to add to that.”

Betty was tempted to roll her eyes. If she thought Betty needed to be told that, it was because Gladys knew nothing about her. She felt her jaw tighten. 

“Jughead and I are going to be happy,” even saying it felt bold. Defiant.

Gladys simply studied her, carefully watching her face, before finally nodding. Seeming to have the answer she wanted, Gladys stood up and walked out of the room.


	3. You came to my room at 4am, to cuddle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: You came to my room at 4am, to cuddle?
> 
> pre-relationship AU

When Archie had dragged Jughead along for a trip to Veronica Lodge’s beach house, he probably hadn’t planned on Jughead spending their vacation staying up until the early morning, typing at his laptop while the others were all asleep.

Jughead hadn’t himself expected to be motivated to write while he was here, but there was something about the change in setting: the sea breeze, the rhythmic sound of the waves. It functioned like kindling for his mind, just needing a small spark to ignite.

That spark was Betty Cooper.

It has been two years since he had last seen her. She had left town with her mom after the very messy, very public divorce of her parents during their first year of high school. He knew she kept in touch with Archie, and had somehow gotten very close with Veronica Lodge, despite the fact that Veronica had only moved to town a few months before Betty left. Apparently they had both needed someone who could sympathize with having dramatic parental separations.

Jughead, well, maybe he could have talked to her about that. He should have, really. But being a listening ear was much easier when you could just sit down next to someone at a lunch table. Since she had moved, he had thought about her a lot, more than he had expected to even, but he hadn’t managed much more than occasionally throwing in a sarcastic line into a group chat from time to time.

Betty had joined them at the Lodge’s beach house at Veronica’s request. Despite their time apart, the four of them seamlessly slid back into their old rapport. 

“Hey, stranger,” she had said, leaning over him from where he sat on the couch, an amused smile on her face and one eyebrow cocked.

It took those two seconds for him to realize why he had never really stopped thinking about Betty Cooper after she left.

The creak of the floorboards behind him pulled Jughead from his thoughts. He was sitting out in the common room on a cushioned loveseat right next to the open window. 

He glanced back to see Betty walking out of the shadows. She was wearing a loose tank top, and pajama shorts, with her hair down in messy tangles. As she stepped over to him, she was twirling one of the curls in her hair around her finger.

“So, you are still awake,” she said, as if she had expected to find him here.

“I’m a night owl,” he said with a smile, “What’s your excuse?”

She shrugged absently, and stepped up next to him, patting his leg as a request for him to move and give her room on the loveseat. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

She sat down close enough to him that he could feel her leg against his, despite the fact that there was plenty of room on the couch for both of them. Her shoulders bumped against his as she pulled her feet up so that her knees were curled up at her chest.

“You’ve been writing?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder. 

He shut his laptop and set it on the side table, “Nothing worth reading, I promise.”

“Don’t say that,” she chided. “Maybe you just need a good editor.”

“Like you?” he responded automatically. When he looked over to her, her face was tilted toward him. There was barely any space between them. 

When she smiled back in answer, he swallowed involuntarily.

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. As the silence stretched out between them, Jughead found himself holding his breath. He didn’t dare move. Betty’s gaze flickered up to him, and then back down to her knee. She was biting at her lip, her expression was uncertain.

He thought she might be expecting him to say something, but he felt sure that one wrong move and this strange, intense moment between them would be gone.

They were so close to each other that he could feel her take in a deep breath. As though suddenly making a decision, she looked up to meet his eyes.

“You aren’t going to ask me why I couldn’t sleep?”

He blinked at her for a moment. Then he parroted back, “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Despite doing exactly what she had asked, she huffed, and gave him an amused smile. Instead of answering, she looked back down at her knees. “You had a lot to say about the guy who stood me up at prom, today.”

He snorted. “Yeah, well. I meant it.”

Really, Veronica had had a lot more to say about the idiot who had cancelled on Betty at the last minute because his first choice for a date had suddenly become available. Jughead had mostly just supported Veronica’s tear down of the guy, while imagining all the ways he would give him a piece of his mind if given the chance.

In a moment of complete lack of self-awareness, Archie had just added, “Man, that sucks.”

For some reason, Betty had just laughed.

“Veronica thinks you like me,” Betty said, now.

His eyes shot to her face. He was completely frozen in spot. He tried to think of a response, but his mind was running in circles, refusing to catch onto one thought long enough to process it.

Her eyes were flickering around nervously, but her voice was gentle when she said, “And I thought it would be nice… if you did.”

And just like that, the panic, the tension in his body disintegrated away. He felt like his whole body had lifted from where he sat.

He swallowed before he finally said, “Would it?”

She smiled, clearly relieved by something in his expression. “I’ve missed you, Jug.”

“Me too,” he said in a breath.

“Good,” she whispered back. 

She leaned toward him but stopped halfway with a jerk, as if second guessing herself. So, he met her there, leaning forward until their lips met. Soft, but tentative. One kiss, and then another, and another.


	4. Did they hurt you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Did they hurt you?
> 
> featuring: mild horror

There was something wrong with the house. 

From the onset, it had been too good to be true. A two story duplex at a reasonable price and not far from the city limits. The house itself was old, but had gone through recent renovations that had split the house into two separate apartments. All the furnishing was new, including the kitchen and bathrooms. Jughead had jumped at the opportunity, afraid that if he waited, someone else would take the offer.

Now he had been living at the house for a week, and he was starting to see the catch. It was subtle at first. He had been convinced that the reason he kept finding his things moved from where he remembered last putting them was because he was still new to the apartment and wasn’t used to it yet. Then, he had woken up one night to go to the bathroom and opened the door to find that the bathroom had been filled in by a wall of dirt. When he woke up again in the morning to find the bathroom back to normal, he convinced himself that it had been just a dream. He had continued to convince himself of that, until a day later, during midday, he had gone from watching a sunny day out the front window of the living room, to witnessing a blistering storm out the windows of the kitchen.

He should have just cut his loses from the beginning. He had met the tenant of the opposite side of the house before he moved in. She was a gorgeous blonde with big doe-eyes and a friendly smile named Betty. He had found himself smitten immediately, but when she had talked to him, she had been cagey, and clearly uncomfortable. Her eyes had sparked with interest when he told her he was a mystery writer, but that expression had quickly changed into one of caution. She wore her emotions clearly on her face, and he would have found that trait endearing if it hadn’t made things evidently clear that she didn’t particularly like him. 

Well, he’d thought, it was for the best anyway. She was way out of his league, and this way at least he knew better than to get ahead of himself.

Now he was starting to wonder if her caginess have been something else altogether.

He had started documenting every strange occurrence in the house, keeping a small leather notebook in his pocket with his observances in hurried, sloppy writing. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was actually going to do with the notes. Could you use “ghost haunting” as an excuse for cutting your lease early?

He needed some fresh air, to get some perspective by getting away from the house for awhile, so he bounded down the stairs, taking quick, heavy breaths. Then the floor gave way.

It was only as he hit the first-floor tile with a loud thud that he realized that what had actually happened was that the stairs had folded in, pulling up several feet, and leaving a large gap between the last stair and the floor below it. Jughead had fallen right over it. It was as if he missed a step, and fallen half a story in the process.

“Are you okay?”

He jumped at the sudden presence beside him, and was startled to see Betty hovering over him, concern etched on her face. 

“What?” he said dimly. How had she even gotten to his side of the duplex? There was no door linking the two apartments, and he hadn’t heard the front door open.

“Did they hurt you? Move your legs and arms for me.”

He did, but before even accessing the pain for damage, he said automatically, “I’m fine. How did you get here?”

“I have a pretty good understanding of how this house works.” He thought she looked a bit guilty.

“You already knew what this house was like before I moved in, then.” he stated. More to clear up the situation in his head than to chastise her.

She winced anyway, “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She looked away from him, staring at the ground by his feet instead. “The house gets much worse when it’s out of balance. I knew things would be more manageable if someone moved in, and, I guess,” she met his eyes again, mouth quirking into a smile, “I hoped it would be you.”

Involuntarily, he felt his cheeks starting to warm.

“Why haven’t you just moved out?” he asked, feeling suddenly shy about approaching the other thread that was now dangling between them.

“Aren’t you curious?” There was an excitement in her voice now, and that sharp spark in her eye that he had seen when he had told her he was a writer was now back in full force. “Don’t you want to get to the bottom of the mystery of this house?”

He thought of his leather notebook, of the notes and documentation he had been making since he had moved in. Maybe he did.

Her smile grew wide when he nodded in response, and she reached out a hand to help pull him up. “So, partners then?”

There were certainly worse ways to investigate a haunted house, he thought to himself.


	5. fall for the mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a snippet of a fic concept based around the "fall for the mark" trope
> 
> includes: open ending, jughead putting his foot in his mouth
> 
> Bughead artwork created for this work: [ here ](https://satelliteinasupernova.tumblr.com/post/180923530744)

“Jughead, do you like me?” 

The twinkling lights hanging off of the banister above them were reflecting on to the gems sewn into Betty’s dress, refracting into colors along her skin and sparkling in her eyes. With her hand on his arm, and her face only a few inches away, he could almost pretend. He could be Forsythe Pendleton Jones the III, wealthy tech entrepreneur with a mansion and a closet full of fitted suits. Someone who didn’t feel so out of place at an exclusive party, or more importantly, linked arm in arm with the beautiful Betty Cooper.

Maybe he had done something right, if Betty Cooper was looking at him, her face glowing and that small, vulnerable, hopeful smile on her lips. When she called him by his name when they were alone together, when she gave him that knowing smile when he couldn’t keep himself from making a snarky comment, it was easy to fall into pretending. But he knew that all of this was based around lies.

He knew that he had spent the last few weeks renting tuxes on someone else’s dime. That he didn’t own a home, much less a mansion. That his grungy apartment had a crack down the tile in the kitchen from some previous renter, and that the one houseplant he had was probably already dead, because he was pretty sure Jellybean had completely forgotten about it. 

He didn’t belong here. 

Sure, Betty Cooper was burdened with one of the worst of all family connections, but she was still a dream girl. The dream girl. Since the moment he had met her, she had been so unexpectedly warm and charming, and damn smart. 

So what was he supposed to say? _Betty Cooper, you are the most beautiful woman to ever patiently course-correct my poor dancing skills, and before I met you I hated every moment of this damn con, but the whole thing changed after you showed up._

_Betty Cooper, the only reason you ever met me was because I’ve been lying to you and everyone you know to help take down your father, and your best friend’s father too._

_Betty Cooper, I think I’m in love with you, but I’m just some poor kid with a huge ego who wanted to believe he could take down some of the worst corruption in this city with a suit and some written words. Who didn’t even consider that he might meet someone like you, and then had to sit and lie every moment he spent in your company._

He couldn’t say that. So he lied again, instead.

“Betty…” What would Forsythe Pendleton Jones the III say. 

No, what would some rich asshole down the hall say.

“No, this between us, we were just,” he involuntarily winced, “having fun, right?” The words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears, but he watched, in what felt like slow motion, as the light dimmed in Betty’s eyes and the smile fell away from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said blankly, her voice steady, but drained of all emotion, “I’d misread the situation.” With that, she turned and walked out of sight, her heels clicking across the marble floor, the sound echoing through his chest.


	6. Quit smiling at me, I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Quit smiling at me, I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.
> 
> aka. School Rivals AU

Jughead Jones was objectively a jerk. Betty liked to think she normally could give people the benefit of the doubt, but Jughead Jones had long tried her patience.

Strictly speaking, yes, when Riverdale High had combined with Southside High, she had taken some time to get used to the new students. Sweet Pea was giant and had an almost constant scowl on his face, but when she had helped handout new school books to the Southside kids, he had had such a bright, enthusiastic look on his face that she hadn’t been at all intimidated by him since. Toni could have a sharp tongue, and had very little patience for what she called “northsider problems,” but she also had a clear and critical perspective that had already proved to be a great asset to the Blue and Gold since she joined. Fangs rarely spoke outside of the company of his friends, but he and Kevin had taken to flirting in the halls, and Betty had once witnessed him tripping over Sweet Pea’s feet after Kevin had walked away.

Jughead Jones, though, was completely different. And sure, the fact that he was running against her for student body president was certainly a factor. But she had been planning on being student body president since she had first re-established the Blue and Gold in sophomore year. It was a great opportunity to actually address the problems they learned from students through the Blue and Gold, while also being able to prioritize growing student clubs beyond Riverdale’s sports teams. And yes, it would look good on college applications.

None of that mattered, though, because here she was in front of the school, flubbing through her list of arguments that she had spent the last two weeks re-writing until they were absolutely perfect, and it was all because Jughead Jones was smirking at her from the other podium.

Somehow she made it through the debate, but not without feeling completely mortified. She practically stormed off the stage once the audience started clearing out of the auditorium. She kept walking until she found a dark corner backstage that was clear of people so she could at least let herself fume where no one could see her. She let herself imagine what a Jughead Jones shaped punching back would look like, leather jacket and stupidly cute hat included.

She heard the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. She twirled around so quickly that her ponytail smacked against the side of her face. The person interrupting her isolated moment of rage, was of course, Jughead Jones.

“Good job out there, today.”

She glowered at him, already waiting for a sarcastic comment to follow.

He cleared his throat again, his jaw set tight and brows furrowed. From afar, she had seen him smile happily, and even laugh from time to time, but whenever he was around her, he almost always had this same frustrated expression. Except for when they were debating. Then he always had that annoying, amused smile.

“You too,” she eventually replied with a sigh, hoping this was all he was expecting from her.

He didn’t move to leave, instead he just continued to stare at her. Maybe he expected her to leave first.

Just as she was about to move passed him, he spoke again, “I have a proposition for you.”

She hated the chill that ran up her spine as soon as he spoke. To cover it, she folded her arms over her chest, and just stared at him expectantly. He took a few steps forward, until they were only a foot apart. She didn’t know why she was holding her breath.

“I’ll drop out of the race, if you make me your vice-president.”

She huffed out a breath, “I can’t do that. I’ve already promised Kevin he’ll be my vice-president, and I can’t just drop him.”

He responded with an amused half-smile, “Word has it that it wasn’t his idea, and that you roped him into it.”

She looked away from him, scrunching her face up in frustration. That was technically true, but it wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge. It didn’t exactly help her campaign to have a vice-president that wasn’t all that motivated about the position. Kevin knew better.

“I don’t know where you could have possibly heard something like that.”

Jughead laughed, so lightly that she barely heard it, “Maybe tell your friends not to be so loose lipped when they’re being flirted with.”

Fangs, she realized in frustration.

She tried a different approach, “Why are you conceding? You don’t think you’ll win against me?”

He shrugged, “A Southsider winning against the straight-A daughter of the woman who has been running a smear campaign against the Southside in the Register for years? I always knew it was a long shot.”

She winced, “I’m not my mother.”

“I know,” he said, with an unexpectedly genuine smile that left her at a complete loss for words. 

“So,” he continued. “Partners?”

She stared back at him, her heart hammering in her chest. Everything he had said was true. She knew Kevin would probably be thrilled to be relieved of his promise to run beside her. He enjoyed the limelight, but he would much rather gossip about school politics than participate in it. 

After a moment, she sighed, and put her hand out toward him, ready to shake his in agreement. “Fine, it’s a deal.”

He smiled again, and reached for her hand, but instead of gripping it into a handshake, he pulled her hand closer to him and kissed the top of her knuckles. “Partners, then,” he said as he pulled away. He nodded at her once before turning away, leaving her alone in the secluded corner.

Jughead Jones was going to be the death of her.


	7. learning to drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: learning to drive
> 
> Which, of course, I turned into a Mech AU

“The handle on the left controls the propulsion, and those panel buttons in front of you can change the tension in the joints. I can adjust some of these settings around though.” Betty was sitting above his shoulder, propped up on the headrest of the cockpit chair, so that she could look down over him to see what he was doing.**  
**

“Why does this thing have to be so complicated?” Jughead adjusted the joystick, and reached for the left controls, trying to get a sense of using them in tandem.

“This mech has a lot more capabilities than your cruiser.” He could hear the smirk in her voice, without even looking up at her. His normal vehicle was small, fast, but could only shoot from the front, and wasn’t anywhere near the powerhouse of this mech.

This wasn’t a Rebellion mech. They had stolen it right under the nose of an Alliance soldier. Betty had quickly disconnected the tracking system, and had since put herself in charge of maintenance and instruction. She was after all, the daughter of the man who designed it. Betty had joined the Rebellion of her own accord, but in the three months that she had been with the Serpent unit, it had taken a while for them to trust her. Helping them get an Alliance mech was a good start.

The first thing they had done once the machine was stowed safely was paint over the gaudy Alliance colors to a dull brown and green. The Serpents kept to the woods. They used the camouflage to their benefit. It would take them some time to determine the best way to use this mech. It was big and menacing. The Alliance loved to use it as a method of intimidation.

“The foot panels will be important. They set the speed and pace of the mech,” Betty continued with her instruction. She sighed, and her next words were thoughtful, “If we can, I’d like you to get as much experience with this mech before we get into a battle.”

“This thing is loud, Betts,” he protested. The last thing they wanted was to bring attention to their location.

“Yeah,” she agreed. He turned around to look up at her. Her expression was contemplative as she stared as the screens in front of them. Her eyes tightened when a thought occurred to her, “Maybe I can dig through the mech’s original harddrive and find the original teaching simulation.”

“Trying to get out of teaching me?” he teased.

“Oh, no,” she said, forcefully. “I’ll still be here looking over your shoulder. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He turned back to the controllers, smiling to himself, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”


	8. I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt : I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.

Betty’s sore throat ends up waking her up. She must have had at least a few hours of blissful sleep, but as she becomes more aware of her body, she finds her limbs heavy, her joints aching.

She can feel Jughead’s steady warmth beside her. She realizes even before she opens her eyes, that her forehead is pressed into the juncture between his arm and his shoulder.

As she blinks her eyes open, Jughead notices and shifts toward her, running his fingers through her hair, “How are you feeling?”

She moans a response.

“That good, huh.”

She sighs and adjusts so that she can bury her head in his neck. Her headache is already starting to come back. “I’m alright,” she says anyway, her words muffled against his skin.

“I thought about getting you some breakfast, but you were asleep on my arm and I didn’t want you to wake up”

She turns to look at him. His expression is soft and affectionate as he massages at her scalp with his free hand. Jughead would usually grab something to eat as soon as he woke up. He was probably starving by now.

“Sorry,” she says with a sigh. Wincing, she pulls herself up and frees his arm from under her. He stretches his arm out, but doesn’t seem eager to leave.

“Do you think you can eat? I think we still have some of those strawberry oatmeal packets.”

Betty starts to nod, but thinks better of it, pressing her head against the nearest pillow to dull the pain.

Jughead chuckles softly and leans forward to kiss her forehead, “I’ll get you some food and cold medicine.”

“I love you,” she mumbles.

“Love you too, Betts,” he answers, as he gets up to leave. 


	9. Anxious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: "Jughead is really anxious and Betty is there for him"
> 
> Warnings: Focus of this short fic is on anxiety. Also includes some strong language.

Jughead didn’t realize that he had been staring at the corner of the coffee table instead of paying attention to the movie until he glanced up and realized he had completely lost track of the plot. He tried to remember what he had even been thinking about while he was distracted, but as soon as he switched focus, the thought was gone. 

He glanced around. JB was next to him on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in her arms, eyes glued to the screen. Betty was curled up in the armchair nearby, leaning against her knees. Her eyes blinked heavily. She looked like she was about to fall sleep. His dad was on the other side of the living room leaned back in the recliner chair, snoring lightly.

It was the kind of domestic image that he could have practically carved out of his daydreams. He should be calm, happily enjoying the moment. Instead, his heart was hammering in his chest.

He was hit with the sudden need to move. He stood up and shuffled around the couch quietly.

“Do you want us to pause it?” JB blinked up at him, no doubt convinced he was off to the bathroom. 

“No,” he answered, as casually as possible. “I can catch up.” He had no clue what was going on anyway.

He bound up the stairs to his and Betty’s shared room. At least now that he was moving, the pounding in his chest didn’t feel as disconnected from the rest of his body, but now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to do.

What he really wanted to do was go take his bike out for a ride, but that would only lead to questions he didn’t really want to answer.

He sat down heavily on the bed, on what he now considered Betty’s side. He drummed his fingers against the wooden side table, listening to the soft sound it made.

Was there something that was bothering him? He tried to think of what he might have forgotten about. If there was something subconsciously eating at him. 

Betty was downstairs; his family was downstairs. He could glance out the window and see that the light to Archie’s bedroom was on.

For the first time in weeks, things were starting to get back to normal. It had taken some time for Betty to stop waking up in the night, shivering in a cold sweat. For her to stop tip-toeing around like she didn’t belong in her own house. They had started having a family movie night, played a few old board games Betty had found still tucked away in the attic. Slowly, she had started to seem more comfortable, if not exactly better.

So why was he so on edge?

He flicked at the latch to a small box Betty kept on her bedside table. She used it to keep photos and letters nearby. He flicked the lid open, then closed, open, then closed. He could use something to eat, but he didn’t want to go back downstairs yet.

He flicked the box open again. At the very top of the stack of papers was a letter she had given him, a deep red kiss mark above the seal. It was a color he only saw on Betty when she was feeling particularly rebellious. Before he had moved into the house, he had kept it inside the case for his typewriter, afraid if he left it anywhere else, it would get crumpled. Betty had noticed it at the bottom of the case when Jughead had been writing with the typewriter, and with a smile, she had tucked it away in her memory box.

The typewriter.

He reached down to pull the case out from its stowaway space under the bed. Leaning down on the floor, he flipped the latches together in one motion, and pulled the typewriter up and rested it on the desk by the window.

He loaded the typewriter with a new sheet of paper and felt the heaviness of the keys under his hands. He typed at a few random keys, comforted by the loud click of each one. He didn’t have anything to write, didn’t even know if he could string words together in his current state of mind.

He stared at the blank sheet of paper silently for a few minutes, and then ran through a string of keys, just to ease the tension that was building in his gut.

**fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck** He typed out in a steady rhythm, almost as if he was playing a piano instead of punching at a typewriter. At the end of the line, he stopped. 

He felt better. Sort of. Breathing was coming easier. 

He wound the paper up a few inches so he could look at his handy work. 

It looked like something a twelve year old would do. He snorted humorlessly to himself, bunched up the paper and threw it to the nearby trash can.

It wasn’t until then that he saw Betty standing in the doorway. She had a speculative look on her face. That could only mean she knew something was wrong.

_Don’t ask about it_, he thought to himself._ Don’t make this a thing._

To give his hands something to do, he reached over and loaded a new sheet of paper into the typewriter. He didn’t look at Betty. Part of him was hoping she would turn around and go back downstairs, and even acknowledging the thought made him feel sick.

Betty’s voice had a cheery lilt to it when she said, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

He blinked at her, and then glanced at the clock, “It’s ten o’clock, Betts.”

She shrugged, “Just around the neighborhood. It’s a clear night. The stars should be out.” She didn’t look concerned. Hadn’t that been his goal, to help make her feel safe in her own neighborhood again? After all, the murderer in Elm Street was dead.

With a sigh, he got up. “Sure.”

She smiled and reached her hand out for him as he approached. She kept his hand firmly in hers even as they walked down the stairs. 

As Betty guided them to the front door, JB hollered over, “Hey! What about the movie?”

“We can watch the end later. We’re going to go out for a bit,” Betty explained.

JB rolled her eyes, and slumped back down into the couch, “It’s not that good anyway.”

“You’re the one who picked it,” Jughead said, still feeling testy. JB’s answer was just to stick her tongue out at him.

Betty pulled him out the door before he could think of something else to say.

The temperature was comfortable outside, and Betty was right, the stars were out. 

After they had walked past a few houses, Jughead glanced over at her. She was looking up at the sky as they walked, a content look on her face. Her hand was still holding his. Her grip wasn’t tight, but it was solid. He felt grounded by it.

_Sorry,_ he almost said, but he swallowed it down at the last minute. He had chided Betty about her tendency to over-apologize lately. _Sorry for not feeling up to going out. Sorry for taking a long time in the bath. Sorry for crying too much during the family movie._

So, instead he said, “Thank you.”

She smiled warmly and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. She continued to guide him the rest of the way.

By the time they had wound around the neighborhood back to the house, his heart was set to a steady beat.


	10. You’re so clingy, i love it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: “You’re so clingy, i love it.”
> 
> What can I say, I like to make things a little weird.

Jughead had been standing in front of one photograph for the past thirty minutes. The class assignment was to wander the halls of the museum and find a piece that sparked an interest in him. Then, of course, write up two pages on his observations.

Jughead had only made it two rooms in before he found his subject.

The image was of a series of mirror reflections. It looked as if the photographer had placed two mirrors in front of each other, and then taken a photograph of the two mirrors capturing each other in infinite reflections. In the mirror reflection was the back of a girl, repeated again and again until her reflection was too small to see, possibly hundreds of reflections. In each of those reflections, her clothing was different.

It was as if he was watching someone’s life passing all in one still photograph. It was digitally manipulated, of course, but the image of the girl was so vivid it felt like he could reach out and touch her shoulder.

His project partner interrupted his train of thought, “Dude, you’re still here? There’s a room down the hall that’s entirely nude photos.” 

Jughead glanced up at him, annoyed, “I’m sure they’re great, but I’m doing this one.” He motioned to the small notepad in his hand where he had been jotting down observations.

His partner, Reggie, took a step back and considered the photograph. He looked thoughtful as he said, “Do you think this is about how we take too many selfies?” 

That was one interpretation, Jughead supposed.

Jughead nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt someone take hold of his arm. He twisted around, intending to push them off, but he stopped dead as soon as he caught a glimpse of her. The first thing he registered was that she was beautiful. The second thing he registered were her eyes. They were a bright green, and were looking up at him with a friendly familiarity.

“This is our favorite photograph here,” she told Reggie, kindly.

Reggie laughed, and smacked Jughead on his shoulder, “You didn’t tell me this was about your girlfriend.” He brought his voice down as he added, “We’ve all been there, man.” With that, he winked, and then wandered back over to the next room.

Jughead suddenly felt very out of his element.

“Uh, thanks?” Jughead said to the woman still holding onto his arm. Was that what he was supposed to say in circumstances like this?

She didn’t respond, instead, she was looking back at the photograph. Looking thoughtful, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Jughead felt frozen in place, afraid if he moved at all, she would vanish just as quickly as she appeared. 

“You’re going to write about it for class?” she asked.

“Yeah…” he replied. “Do you think I should?” he added, not sure why he was starting to feel a desperate need for her approval.

“I think it’s a great idea. As long as I get to read it, Jug,” she said, turning to him with a smile.

When she casually said his name, the panic he felt was visceral. He felt it travel up his body in waves. Did she know him? Was he supposed to know her?

He didn’t want to ask. He wanted to keep playing his part in this role she had concocted, but he needed to know.

“Do I… know you?” He bit at his lip as he waited for her answer. Expecting her to be insulted. Upset. Or maybe for her to laugh at him.

Instead, she just studied him. “I guess not,” she said eventually. “This must be the first time we’ve met.”

“Do you know me?” he asked, numbly.

This time she did laugh, “I’d like to think I know you pretty well by now, Jughead Jones, but I’ve had the opportunity to meet you plenty of times.”

This woman was an enigma.

She pulled away from him then, and as soon as she did, he missed her presence beside him painfully.

“I’m Betty Cooper,” she said, looking at him with a soft smile. “If you see me again, will you come talk to me?”

“Of course,” he answered without a moment’s pause. 

Her smile bloomed into a look of relief. She started walking backwards away from him, but continued to lock her eyes with his. “If you find yourself wanting to see me, this is a good spot.”

“I will,” he answered, feeling helpless as she stepped further away from him. “I will, Betty.” he added, just so he could feel what it was like to say her name.

“See you soon, Jug.” she said, and then turned around, leaving him there, certain then that his life had completely changed.


	11. Can’t you like wiggle your nose or something and everything works out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the halloween prompt: "Can’t you like wiggle your nose or something and everything works out?"

Hiding in a storage closet in the Blossom mansion hadn’t been a part of Jughead’s plan when he had woken up that morning. 

No, the plan had been to interview the new witch who had just arrived in Riverdale. And well, one, she was distractingly cute, and two, she was more interested in hearing about what he had to say about Riverdale than answering any questions he had about her.

Betty had flown in to Riverdale two nights ago on what looked like a household broom, in a short black dress and a tall witch’s hat.

“My mom insisted I wear it,” she had said, embarrassed, when she took the hat off as she stepped into Pop’s diner. 

Jughead had been in the middle of his second burger when he (along with everyone else in the diner) had found himself transfixed as she had floated down to the diner’s parking lot. He had simply watched as a crowd had gathered around her, seated her down at one of the booths and bombarded her with questions. What was her name? Where had she come from? Was she here to stay? What magics did she know?

She told them her name was Betty, and she continued to answer their questions with cheery excitement. She was looking for a town to settle down in, if they would have her. She had a variety of skills, but hadn’t settled on a specific proficiency.

Jughead had heard that when witches came of age, they were expected to leave home and settle down in a town that could use their services. He’d assumed it was an old tradition that had gone out of style. Riverdale hadn’t seen a witch in close to a century, but now that one had arrived, Jughead was determined to learn more about her.

So he had gone to see her that morning at the house of the old piano teacher, Mrs. Grundy, under the guise of interviewing her for the Riverdale Register. Strictly speaking, he hadn’t run the interview by his boss, but he knew he could make a decent argument for it being a good public interest piece after he had actually written it.

But, well, it turned out that Betty had a whole slew of questions that she wanted answered, and Jughead’s visit had given her the opportunity to express them.

It had started when he had said, “You know, Riverdale hasn’t had a witch since the early 1900s.”

“So people here keep telling me.” She practically bounced in her chair, scooting closer to him, her voice conspiratory. They were sitting in Grundy’s parlor on cushioned antique chairs with tea and a collection of cookies set on a table in front of them. Jughead couldn’t help but grab three different cookies, and pop them into his mouth in quick succession as Betty continued.

“But that’s the thing, there is magic in Riverdale. When I first arrived, I was sure that you already had a witch here.” Jughead just watched her, picking up a two fig newtons and eating both of them in one bite. 

Betty’s eyes were sparkling brilliantly, even though most of the morning light was hidden behind the white lace curtains hung over the windows. She was wearing black again, though a different dress this time. This one had a pleated skirt and looked more fitting for a girl her age then the long-sleeved, high-necked dress she’d worn before. It was, however, just as short. Jughead was having trouble keeping his gaze from sliding down the length of her legs, so he grabbed at another cookie instead.

“Now that I’ve been here for a few days, I can tell it’s different from what I originally thought. There is magic here, but it’s like it’s asleep, or something. Dormant.”

“Do you think there’s someone hiding their magic?” he asked, his own thoughts starting to turn in his head.

“Maybe,” Betty answered thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have a theory?”

“A hunch maybe.” When Jughead was young, he imagined the Blossom twins were what all witches looked like. Now that he had met Betty, he could at least say they dressed the part. There was also the prickling thought that if there was someone in Riverdale who wanted to keep witches from moving to town and taking up jobs helping the little folk, it would be wealthy and powerful Blossom family. He told Betty as much. “If there is anyone in this town who would be hiding secret magic, it’d be the Blossoms.” 

Betty had practically jumped out of her chair, “Let’s find out, shall we?”

And so, somehow, after failing to find any real leads while sneaking around the Blossom mansion, they were now hidden in a supply closet with no way out. 

With his ear to the door, Jughead could hear the Blossom twin’s grandmother hollering over the bannister. “Trespassers! Villains! Thieves!”

The muffled sounds of the rest of the family downstairs sounded more confused than panicked.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Betty said, moving a half-dressed mannequin out of the way so she could move further back into the storage space. Jughead didn’t even want to ask why the Blossom’s had a mannequin.

“You’re the one with magic. Can’t you just wiggle your nose or something and teleport us out of here?”

Betty ignored him. She was looking up at the far wall instead. “Do you think you could reach that window?”

Jughead followed her gaze. The window was more of a skylight than anything, but it was large enough for them to fit through. That didn’t change the fact that it was well outside of his reach.

“Even if I could,” Jughead said out loud, “We’re on the third floor.” 

Betty huffed, and continued to wade through the random collection of shelves and boxes before she stopped suddenly. “There!” she said, triumphantly.

“Keep your voice down,” Jughead warned, his ear still at the door.

Betty pulled loose a long handle from a tall bin nearby and lifted it over her head to show him. It was a very old mop. 

“This is our ticket out of here!” Though she was no less excited, this time she kept her voice down. “Come on!”

Jughead was skeptical, but he moved toward her. “Can you fly on that thing?”

“Theoretically,” she said, though she sounded unsure. “Put your hands on my hips,” she instructed. As he stood behind her, she brought the mop under them. Her ponytail swung in front of his face, swatting against his nose, strands of her hair sticking to his lips.

This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined touching her for the first time, and he almost said so. Before he could speak, they had shot up in the air, and Jughead had to grasp his arms around her just to keep from falling.

“Easy there,” Betty had said with a chuckle. Using one leg to kick them toward the ceiling, Betty reached up for the window and unlocked the hatch.

“Not so bad, right?” Betty said a few minutes later when they were safely out of sight of the mansion.

“My life is in your hands,” he answered, trying not to look down. He didn’t dare release his tight hold on her, so his chin was just over her shoulder. He could smell lavender in her hair, and could feel her steady breathing against his chest.

The adrenaline still coursing through him made him feel bold, “But if I was going to put my life in anyone’s hands, it’s probably best that it’s you.”

He could see just the edge of her smile. “Does this mean you’ll take me on a proper date next time, Juggie?”

He laughed, feeling giddy at the way she said his name, “I don’t know. What is a proper date for a witch?”

“Oh, you know. Visiting graveyards by candlelight, howling at the moon, dancing naked in an open field.”

Jughead was trying very hard not to imagine what it would be like to see Betty naked under the light of the moon. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well…” she said, turning to give him a wink, “Probably not for a first date, at least.”


	12. I thought you agreed I should wear this costume to the party tonight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halloween prompt: “I thought you agreed I should wear this costume to the party tonight?” “Oh I agreed to you wearing it tonight, but I had no party in mind”
> 
> Warning for vampirism, and vaguely sexy stuff

It was just a few minutes before nine when Jughead made it in front of Betty’s dorm room, dressed in a white shirt and dress pants with his suspenders over his shoulders. “I’ll dress up as a Lady Dracula, and you can be my consort,” Betty had said when he told her he didn’t have a costume for the college Halloween party.

“Are you going to supply the gory make-up?” he asked, already wondering if bleach would be able to get red stains off of his only dress shirt.

“Vampires aren’t slobs, Jug,” she said with a shrug, her immaculate ponytail bouncing in place.

They had only been dating for a little over a month, but Jughead had held a candle for her ever since they had shared a literature class together during the first semester of freshman year. By some luck, her best friend had taken an interest in his roommate, and soon Betty had become a part of his regular group without Jughead actually having to put himself out there.

He’d assumed the interest was been one-sided, until Betty had asked for his number before summer break and promptly messaged him almost every day over the summer. When he got back to school at the start of the new year, he had decided that the least he could do was ask if she was interested in him.

He ended up whispering his feelings to her when they were alone together, walking down an empty flight of stairs after class. _I like you, Betty._

“Oh good,” she said with a sigh relief. “Me too. I like you too.”

Things had been steady since then. Even his birthday, always a tense time for him, had passed smoothly. Betty had taken him to a horror movie, bought him popcorn and several kinds of candy, and ended the night by kissing him thoroughly in the front seat of her parked car.

Jughead ran his hand through his hair as he knocked on Betty’s door. At the last minute, he had left his hat in his room, but he was starting to question that decision, a nervous energy building in his gut.

He felt better as soon as Betty opened the door, a bright smile on her face. “Juggie!” She was wearing a short black dress with a heart-shaped neckline that accentuated the swell of her breasts in a way that Jughead was already finding distracting. She had a black cape over her shoulders that gave a peek of a deep red underlining when she moved.

“You look cute,” he said, still awkwardly standing in the hallway.

She curtsied cutely, and motioned for him to come in. “Come sit down.”

“Won’t we be late?” Usually Betty was unerringly punctual. He had expected her to usher him out to the outside dorm party as soon as he got there.

“Oh, did you want to go?” She looked back at him over her shoulder. Her voice almost sounded disappointed.

_Not really_, he thought. Instead he said, “I was promised more candy than I could possibly eat. I was prepared to take that as a challenge.” 

“Right,” Betty said thoughtfully, circling around the room in a series of searching motions. “Here we go.” She pulled out a large plastic bowl decorated with little cartoon bats from under her desk. It was filled to the brim with chocolate candy. 

As Jughead took the bowl in his hands, Betty gave him a sudden shove, settling him promptly in the chair right behind him. A strange thrill jolted through him as collapsed into the chair.

“Eat,” she instructed, pointing at the bowl with a finger. “I have a few things to get ready.” She proceeded to rummage around in her desk drawer, pulling out a hand towel and a first aid kit.

“So…we’re not going to the party, then.” He unwrapped one of the larger chocolate bars and tossed the wrapper into the trashcan next to him.

“Only if you want to, Juggie. If you decide you want to go, tell me, okay?” At the end of her question, she looked up at him, studying his expression.

“Okay…” he answered, slowly coming to terms with the fact that this night was not going to go anything like he had expected.

He swallowed nervously. He and Betty hadn’t had sex yet, hadn’t even really approached the subject, but Jughead was starting to get the impression that that was something Betty was interested in changing.

Betty sauntered over to him and lifted the bowl from his hands, gently placing it on the floor beside them. She sat down, settling herself on his lap. “Jug,” she said, her voice sweet but probing. His heart was pounding painfully against his chest. He reached out to put his hands on her hips just for something to do.

Betty’s gaze was intense and unwavering. She was watching him like she was trying to read his thought behind every expression. “How do you feel about pain mixed with pleasure?”

It was not a question he was expecting. He fumbled through his words, “What exactly…” His tongue felt awkward and heavy in his mouth. “You mean like, scratching? Bruising?”

“More like…biting,” she wrinkled her nose, and her predatory demeanor flickering into a shy, nervous one. “Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“I guess, yeah.” His whole body was buzzing with nervous energy. “If it’s you,” he added truthfully.

For a moment, Betty didn’t say anything, she just watched him, her eyes fixed on him with an unrelenting gaze. Then she relaxed, and he could feel her body settling into his lap.

“Okay,” she said, with a smile. She reached up and put both of her hands on his cheeks, her thumb rubbing softly against the side of his chin. “And you’ll tell me if you want to stop, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered, running his tongue over his lips. “You-you too, right?” His attempt to give a smooth answer undercut by his current inability to put more than two words together.

She leaned toward him, bopping his nose with hers affectionately, before tilting her head and capturing his lips with hers. She ran her tongue along his mouth, pushing his lips open. Normally, they started slow and built up from there, but this time Betty kissed him aggressively, right from the start. He moved to match her pace, pulling her closer in his lap. The fabric of her cape settled over his arms, cold and smooth, a sharp contrast to the heat that was quickly building under his skin.

Over the top of the deep red lipstick she was wearing, he could taste the flavor of the sticky sweet lip gloss she wore almost every day. The taste, the smell of it, was starting to become a familiar friend. When she greeted him in the mornings, a new coat fresh on her lips, it took all of his willpower not to pull her to him and meet her greeting with a long series of kisses. 

Now that he had her all to himself, he felt almost giddy. Soon, he stopped thinking altogether. Feeling her with his lips, with his hands. Reaching for her hair, her thigh, cupping her breast. 

A shock of pain practically jolted him out of his seat. His mind was such a foggy mess, it took him a full second to realize that Betty had bitten his bottom lip. Her comfortable grip on his cheek steadied them as she immediately started to sooth the bite with her tongue. He could taste a pang of blood in his mouth, but the pain had all but faded.

Betty slowly pulled her head back and blinked at him slowly.

“Was that okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” he mumbled, running his own tongue across his lip, still tasting the hints of lip gloss there.

“Is more okay?”

“Yes,” he practically groaned.

“Okay,” she whispered with a smile, but instead of meeting his lips again, she started a trail of kisses down his cheek, under his chin, down his neck. Jughead was left gasping for air, putting a hand under her cape so that he could run his fingers over the smooth skin of her arm.

When her teeth sunk into his neck, his whole body was on fire. He leaned his head back against the headrest of the chair, his eyes rolling back. He could feel the quick caresses of her tongue, and the sound of her throat, as she fed on his blood.

She really was Lady Dracula, he thought.

Far too soon, she pulled away, picking up a folded hand towel on the desk beside her and placing it against his neck.

“You can keep going,” he said as he blinked up at her. She looked back over at him and smiled, an overwhelming affection in her eyes. His whole body was tingling down to the tips of his fingers and to the ends of his toes.

“That’s enough, baby,” she said in a hushed whisper. “Was that okay? How do you feel?”

He snorted softly, “I feel great. Is this just a Halloween thing or-”

“It’s a whenever you feel up to it kind of thing,” she answered, looking amused.

“You aren’t doing this with anyone else, right?” he added with fake petulance. 

This time she gave a short laugh, “I usually manage just fine, thank you, but you’ll be my first stop next time I get hungry.” She leaned forward one more time to kiss him sloppily on the lips, breaking away with an audible smack. “Now eat some more candy, I’ve got a packet of juice in the fridge.”

As Jughead reached for another chocolate bar, he licked his lips one more time, tasting blood.


	13. If you say let’s split up, I swear to God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the Halloween Prompt: ”If you say let’s split up, I swear to God.”
> 
> Features: Zombie hunter Betty, Werewolf Jughead, Vampire Veronica and clueless Archie
> 
> Warning for zombie related gore and gun use

Archie was plucking on his guitar during lunch break, playing a song that was indistinguishable from the five other songs Betty had heard him play. The lyrics were never particularly subtle, each song was a similar tale of heartbreak. Betty didn’t think his song writing was particularly clever, but Archie seemed immensely proud of himself if a little shy about it.

Betty batted her eyes at him. “Wow, that’s so amazing, Archie,” she said breathlessly, pretending to be overcome with emotion.

Archie beamed. “I’ll write one for you next time, Betty.“ 

Betty wasn’t sure that would be something she could get through with a straight face. “Oh, Archie. That’s so sweet…”

While she was still thinking of an excuse to avoid that particular situation, they were interrupted by Jughead and Veronica taking seats beside them at their regular lunch table. Jughead had a mound of food from the cafeteria. Veronica had the discrete catering she’d had delivered to school by her butler.

“What’s happening now?” Jughead glanced between Betty and Archie, a sandwich already in his mouth.

“Betty likes my new song,” Archie answered enthusiastically.

Jughead gave Betty a knowing look, but she glanced away from him, feigning obliviousness.

Jughead had an uncomfortable way of seeing through her act. Veronica was much the same. Betty glanced across the table, where Veronica was drinking a red smoothie like she did everyday for lunch. 

When Betty had been planted at Riverdale High, the plan was to be a nondescript student with nondescript friends. She had thought she had the perfect opportunity when she’d met the high school boy living next door to the house that had been provided for her and the two agents who were masquerading as her parents. Archie was the kind of dense teenage boy she knew would be perfect for helping her cover.

So, she had taken on the persona of a smitten high school girl. Archie had been flattered by her affections, and was eager to introduce her to his friends. However, the people he introduced her to were not the similarly oblivious jocks she was expecting. Instead, apparently Archie liked to attach himself with the outsiders.

Veronica was a recently dethroned rich girl from out of town. Betty had immediately expected Veronica to treat her as new competition for Archie’s attentions. So when Archie had asked Betty on a date right in front of Veronica, Betty had instinctively glanced her way to gauge her reaction. Veronica had met her eyes and shrugged. “No worries, B. Been there, done that.” Despite herself, Betty found that she enjoyed her company.

Jughead had apparently been Archie’s best friend since childhood. They were an odd combo. Archie was almost unerringly positive in his opinions of other people. Jughead was shrewd, critical, and quick witted. 

He’d kept Betty at a distance for weeks, even though they shared a lunch table every day. Then one day, she had come out of literature class so heated that she had spent half of lunch break rambling about the ways high school education fed into the misogynistic ideologies of teenage boys. 

As far as her cover was concerned, it wasn’t her finest hour, but when she had finally come to an end of her rant, Veronica had clapped delicately from across the table, and at Betty’s side, Jughead was grinning openly. Archie had blinked blankly and said, “Wow, I hadn’t thought of it that way, Betty.”

After that, Jughead’s demeanor around her changed. He gave her a small smile every time he saw her, even if he had just been scowling only seconds before. Sometimes it seemed like he would say things just to see if he could get her to laugh. Betty liked it. She liked him.

But that wasn’t the persona she had taken. And anyway, it was never good to get feelings mixed in with a job.

So she continued to be the girl who hopelessly pined for Archie while he gave her and every other girl in the school only temporary attention. Jughead would roll his eyes, and Veronica would watch her with a skeptical expression. And Betty would continue to fill her role, in position waiting for the Living Dead to come to Riverdale.

When she had been placed here, they had already known it was a matter of _when_ not _if_ the infection would grow to Riverdale. Betty had been provided with an arsenal of supplies to keep the infection under control and had a direct line set up at the house to call for backup. As far as Betty was concerned, she was prepared for it.

Except, she hadn’t exactly been expecting it to start at school, during the middle of lunch. There was a scream that broke through the comfortable buzz of lunch conversation. Betty turned and saw a student across the lawn pounce at the person in front of them, pushing them to the ground and gnawing at the side of their face. 

Betty reached for the gun in her backpack, but before she had even pulled it out of the side pocket, she was abruptly lifted into the air. She had been hoisted onto Jughead’s shoulder as he started running.

“Wait!” she yelled, “What are you-” She pulled her head up and saw Veronica running at their side, pulling Archie’s arm along so hard he was struggling to run straight. 

Since when had Jughead and Veronica been this strong? Betty struggled against Jughead’s grip but could barely even move.

“Let me down,” she insisted. She had extra weapons and ammunition stowed away in a hidden compartment behind her locker. If she could get there early, she’d be in a good position to take out those already infected. 

Neither Jughead or Veronica paid her any mind, refusing to stop until they were several blocks away.

“What was that?” Archie asked, catching his breath. Jughead and Veronica didn’t seem winded at all from the run. 

“Monsters in Riverdale,” Veronica answered simply.

Jughead finally let Betty off of his shoulder, gently sliding her down to her feet. She took a moment to give him a stern glare. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Betty…” He responded with a disgruntled sigh.

“We might have just saved your life back there, B.” Veronica walked up beside her and put a hand on Betty’s shoulder. “I know this is going to be a lot to take in, but believe me. That was a zombie attack, and it’s only going to spread.”

_Yes, I know_, Betty thought. For a brief moment, she considered just telling them everything. Explaining that this was exactly why she was here in Riverdale. 

She didn’t really have time for that. So she ran.

“Betty!” All three of them called after her. She ignored them.

Betty pulled out her handgun as she reached the school, and found a decent vantage point from behind a bench. Outbreaks could grow fast. By now there were probably at least a dozen Living Dead within the school. 

She grabbed a large twig from the tree above her and threw it as hard as she could at the large metal trash can a few yards away. It made a heavy, echoing thud.

The creatures took the bait, walking in uneven steps toward the noise. 

Betty took her shot, one after the other. There were more of them then she had bullets. She would have to get into the building if she wanted to clear them out.

She crouched, ready to run, when one of them approached her from the side. She spun around, lifting her leg so that she could kick it away, but before she could act, a large arm covered in matted fur swung against the creature’s head, batting it to the ground.

Betty looked up to see a towering beast with giant fangs, a torn flannel shirt and a knitted crown-shaped hat.

“What-” she muttered in disbelief. 

“You could have just told us,” Jughead said, his voice recognizable, though significantly deeper than she was used to. She watched as his bones and muscles started to shrink. The fur quickly disappeared, leaving Jughead looking completely normal, except for the now tattered shirt that was barely hanging over his shoulders.

“Seriously,” said Veronica as she sat down on the bench Betty had previously been using for cover. Veronica had two long fangs along her front teeth that Betty had never seen before. “You could use our help. And let’s be honest with ourselves, if you offered Jughead so much as a kiss, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.” She glanced over at Jughead with a teasing smirk.

Jughead made a strangled groan.

Veronica turned back to Betty with a sigh, “Can you imagine how much of a pain it is to deal with a werewolf with a crush? I’ve had to shut him into a locked bunker just to keep him from howling outside your bedroom window.”

Betty glanced back at Jughead, words still eluding her. Jughead’s eyebrows were set in a scowl, but his face was a burning red. “Are we taking care of the zombie problem, or not?” Jughead said, tucking his head toward his chest and turning away from them.

“What about me?” Archie asked. He was standing several feet behind them, looking a little lost.

“We’ll see if we can grab you some football gear or something,” Jughead growled. In the blink of an eye, he was a wolf again. Then he turned to Betty, his body still tense, but his eyes soft. “What’s the plan?”

“Can you get me to my locker?”

“No problem,” Veronica said with a brilliant smile.


	14. We aren't all that bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the halloween prompt: "we aren't all that bad"
> 
> WARNING for family death, guilt and grieving
> 
> Also: the family dynamics involving Betty and Jughead sharing a brother, if that's not your thing

Betty didn’t know her brother was a werewolf until she was standing over his corpse.

Beside her, Hal Cooper systematically reloaded his pistol, checked the safety, and placed it back in its holster. Each individual sound practically echoed through her body. Her brain felt miles away. Her body a hollow shell both unable to look away from Charles and unable to process what she was seeing.

“I knew there was something off with that boy. You mother would give birth to a mongrel,” Hal said, completely undisturbed by the sight in front of them.

It was her brother. His body was larger than a human’s, he was covered in thick fur, and Betty could see large fangs protruding from his jaws. Blood was pooling around his head from where Hal Cooper had shot him through the eyes. He was her brother. He was a werewolf. And he was dead.

The Coopers had been trained as werewolf hunters for generations. Hal liked to tell his daughters that they had inherited a great purpose, protecting the innocent from the dangers of the occult. Until this moment, Betty had unquestionably believed in it. She prided herself in it. But now…

“We’ll have to bury it,” Hal said. “There’s shovels in the back of the car.”

Betty helped her father bury the corpse of her brother. Her body going through the motions, following instructions even though her vision was hazy. They buried Charles deep in the forest. Betty wasn’t sure if she would even be able to find the spot again if she tried.

Hal hummed to the radio on the drive home.

Betty didn’t clean the grime off immediately when they got to the house. Instead, she waited until Hal had left for a meet up with his witch hunting group. He looked proud as he went, his gait steady and shoulders back. As Betty watched him go, she felt sick to her stomach. He hadn’t once asked her how she felt.

Betty walked up to her bedroom in a trance. She shed each layer of clothes slowly, her bare feet icy cold against the tile of her bathroom floor.

The house was empty. Her mother had left town months ago and Polly hadn’t lived in the house since her senior year of high school. Since then, she had joined a group of hippies that Hal was convinced was a coven of witches.

When Betty stepped under the hot water of the shower, she expected to start crying. To finally feel the sadness she was sure was there. Instead, she wasn’t able to find it. She tried to think of the brother who had always been kind to her, who could not visit the house without getting into a fight with her dad, but came anyway just to see her. She had met him for the first time when he was a teenager, but ever since then he had made sure she was a part of his life. He saw how controlling their mom and her dad could be, and was always willing to be a listening ear.

Betty thought of all those things, but no matter how much she focused on it, even as she tried to imagine his face in detail, the grief just wouldn’t come. Instead, the numbness gave way to dread. She thought of Hal’s complete apathy, his total acceptance of the situation. Was that what she was really like deep down?

Her heart beat painfully against her chest, an all consuming panic finding its way up her throat. Betty started to scream. She buried her face into her hands, digging into the sides of her face and screamed until her voice went raw.

Charles had siblings that Betty had never met. He talked about them from time to time. He had a younger brother who was only a few months younger than Betty herself, and another sister who was in middle school. He liked to joke that all of his sisters were spitfires, even if they weren’t related by blood. He described his younger brother as _contemplative_. According to Charles, it had taken his brother the longest to come around to him, but he had really needed someone who was just willing to listen to him. Charles said he was similar to Betty in that way.

There were many ways to become a werewolf, but the most common way was by blood. It passed on in families much like being a hunter had been passed down in the Cooper family. If Charles was a werewolf, there was a very high probability that others in his bloodline were as well.

That was something Hal Cooper would certainly consider as well.

Betty didn’t know much about Charles’ other family, but she did know where they lived. Riverdale, a small town a few hours away. Betty couldn’t remember if anyone had ever told Hal that fact, but now that she knew her brother’s secret, she doubted he ever would have told Hal himself.

But Charles _had_ told her.

Betty made a cursory sweep of her room, pulling out any and every document she might have related to Charles. She grabbed birthday cards, the letters they exchanged, anything that might have any person information on it. She stuffed everything into a duffel bag, along with as much clothes that she could fit. She knew if she made this choice, she wouldn’t be able to come back.

It wasn’t until Betty had hopped onto the late night bus that she started to look through the letters. She ended up finding the exact information she needed on a Christmas card Charles had sent to her two years ago. He had spent that week in Riverdale with his family, and the return address had listed a Riverdale address.

It wasn’t hard to find it. The night had given way to the morning by the time she was standing in front of the small trailer. There were a set of wooden steps leading up to the doorway, but Betty couldn’t bring herself to approach them. What would she even say?

Before she could come to a decision, the door opened and a large shaggy dog bound down the steps.

“Hot Dog. Stay,” a low voice called from the doorway. Instead, the dog ran a few circles around Betty, jumping up with excitement before running to the grassy patch behind the trailer and rolling on his back.

A teenage boy with tired eyes and a hat barely concealing his unruly bed-head stepped out onto the wooden steps.

She knew instinctively that this was Jughead Jones. Her voice lodged in her throat as he noticed her. His startled expression was very quickly replaced by a distrustful caution. He didn’t make any motion to greet her, or even question her. He just studied her, his eyes sweeping over her ruffled travel clothes to the large duffel bag over her shoulder.

“I’m-” she tried, her voice catching in her throat. “I’m Charles’ sister.”

“Yeah. I know,” he said simply.

He knew. How much did he know? Did he know she had been trained to be a hunter? Did he know Charles’ was a werewolf? Was he a werewolf? Had Charles warned him to be wary of her?

And just like that, everything hit her all at once. Her grief over her brother’s death. Her guilt for how Charles must have felt for years, being what he was and knowing she and her family were more dangerous to him than anything.

A sob wretched out from her, tears clouding her eyes. She dropped her duffel bag to the ground, and felt her legs start to give out as she succumbed to waves of her own anguish.

Before she could fall to her knees, Jughead was beside her, pulling her into his arms. He held her weight, pressing her head against his chest, his hand steady on her back.

“Charles-” she tried to say. She couldn’t get out any more than that, but when Jughead’s hold tightened against her, she knew that he understood. He leaned his head against her shoulder, and she could feel a small tremor run through his body. She knew without looking that he was crying too.

There was something about him that reminded her so much of her brother. Not just in his looks, but in the soft scent she could smell off of his skin now that she was so close to him. He smelled of the night air under a clear sky. Though she had never guessed what her brother secretly was, now that she knew, she realized she could recognize it in others as well. Jughead was a werewolf just like their brother.

As she held onto him, comforted by their shared grief, Betty vowed that she would never let someone like her father harm anyone else in Charles’ family again.


	15. Anybody else notice the small child staring at us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the halloween prompt: "Anybody else notice the small child staring at us?"

“You guys see that kid over there, right?” Kevin asked as he lifted up his aviator goggles, looking over his shoulder. Betty leaned over to glance behind him. 

There was a small girl standing several yards away dressed all in gray, her face pale with dark ridges around her eyes. She was watching them with an unwavering stare, her eyebrows creased and her expression stern.

“I’ve never seen her before,” Veronica said, unfolding her fan and fluttering it in front of her face. Veronica was dressed in an intricate classical dress that looked like it could have belonged to Marie Antoinette, though Betty hadn’t told her so. _Daddy’s been feeling guilty about being gone for work all month, so he really went all out this year_, Veronica had said as she met them outside the Pembrooke.

“Maybe she’s visiting?” Betty said, thoughtfully. Riverdale was small enough that everyone knew everyone. You didn’t ever see a kid you didn’t know, even on Halloween.

The kid was still staring at them without moving, but Betty shrugged. “Let’s go get some candy.”

“Lead the way, Nancy Drew,” Kevin grinned. Betty playfully put her magnifying glass in front of her face and walked ahead.

Now that Betty was thirteen, this was the first Halloween she was allowed to spend without her mother escorting her and sifting through the candy in her bag, throwing half of it out for being_ too unhealthy_. This year, her mom had acquiesced only with the strict instructions that Polly stick close to Betty the whole night. Of course, as soon as the house was out of sight, Polly had run off with her own friends without looking back. 

Betty knew that as soon as she stepped into the house, Alice would be scouring through her candy haul, so she had every intention to eat all of the good stuff before then.

It was after they had made it down a few houses that Veronica stopped to check her phone. She gave Betty as a look, “Archie wants me to tell you he’s sorry he’s late.”

Betty huffed, rolling her eyes. Beside her, Kevin laughed, “Ah, the terror of the Betty Cooper lecture.”

“Whatever,” Betty said, turning away, trying to sound less bothered than she was. “He’ll just get less candy.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she felt someone watching her. When she looked around, she saw the same kid they had seen a few blocks before. Again, she was several yards away, staring at them solemnly.

“Did she follow us here?” Veronica whispered. 

Kevin grimaced, “What if we’re being haunted?”

Instead of answering, Betty called out, “Are you lost?”

“Betty,” Kevin tried to hush her, leaning into her shoulder. “Don’t engage with it.”

The kid was silent, continuing only to watch them.

Betty started to walk towards her. Both Veronica and Kevin reached to hold her back. She shrugged them off.

The girl was small, probably an elementary schooler, with twin braids over her shoulders. Up close, Betty could tell she was wearing thick eyeliner around her eyes.

“Are you alone? Do you need help?” Betty tried.

The kid still didn’t answer, so Betty reached out her hand. “You can come trick or treating with us. It’s okay.”

She glanced down at Betty’s hand, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to take it. Betty smiled down at her and lead her over to her friends.

“Well, alright,” Veronica said when they were all standing together. “I guess she’s not actually a ghost.” Kevin made a sound that made it clear he wasn’t so sure.

As they continued going house to house, the kid didn’t let go of Betty’s hand, but she did follow Betty’s lead in eating some of the candy from the pillowcase she was using as a bag.

They were almost through the houses Kevin considered the good ones when they heard a voice calling out nearby.

“Jellybean! Jelly! Are you here?”

The kid reacted immediately, glancing around quickly, and then running as soon as a boy around Betty’s age came into sight from around a neighboring house.

“There you are,” he said, relieved, as he put his arms around her. “I was looking everywhere.” 

He must be her brother, Betty thought. They were alike in a lot of ways. He wasn’t particularly dressed up. He was wearing an oversized shirt with a skull on it that looked like it might just be a rock band t-shirt. He was wearing an unusual beanie with crown shaped tips on the edges, though, so maybe he was just dressed as a character Betty hadn’t heard of.

“She joined us for trick-or-treating. I hope that’s alright,” Betty said with a tentative smile.

He blinked at her, “Uh, thanks. We just moved here- so.” He seemed unsure of what to say, holding Jellybean close to him.

“You can join us, if you want!” Betty glanced back at her friends, who looked overall disinterested but not opposed.

The boy glanced down at Jellybean, who nodded solidly. Betty’s smile grew wider. She reached out her hand toward him, Cooper politeness through and through. “I’m Betty.”

He gave her a dubious look but took her hand, “Jughead.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jughead,” she said with a grin.


	16. Bathtub Fic & Innocent Physical Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope mashup of Bathtub Fic & Innocent Physical Contact
> 
> Warning for a whole lot of Angst, Injury, and treating wounds.

The last thing Betty expected to see when she reached the main road after hiking up from Sweetwater River was her ex-boyfriend, stumbling forward along the pavement, caked in blood.**  
**

She had gone to Sweetwater with a book and little else, intending just to get away from everything for a while. Mostly to get away from her mother. Now that Betty’s first year of college was on the horizon, Alice had gone into overdrive with passive-aggressive comments and near constant needling. 

_It’s just because she’s feeling lonely about you going off to college_, she kept telling herself, but regardless of the reason, it was all starting to overwhelm her. So, she had left all means of contacting her behind, and dedicated the day to reading a book by the side of the river until the sun had begun to set.

She didn’t actually see Jughead until she had already stepped up to the road and had started kicking the dirt off of her shoes on the pavement. He was some distance away, but it was clear from his uneven pace that he was in pain. Before she had even processed it, she was running ahead to his side.

“Jughead!” As soon as she reached him, she stretched out a hand to him, but stopped before touching him, afraid she might hurt him. “What happened?”

There were patches of blood across his face, his lip and left eye was swollen. Trails of blood ran down his neck and had stained the front of his shirt. One of his pant legs had torn, and Betty could see blood seeping through the jean fabric.

His expression didn’t change, utterly blank despite the clear pain he was in. When his eyes met hers, they were a dark and unfamiliar. “Go away, Betty,” he said, his words muffled by his swollen lip.

She had almost gotten used to Jughead pushing her away. It had been nearly a year since they’d last had a real conversation. So, instead of heeding him, she grabbed his arm and put it over her shoulder. He grunted in pain, but fell into pace with her without speaking again.

They were too far from the hospital to walk there, but Sunnyside was close by, so Betty decided to focus on getting to his trailer first. Then, hopefully, she could call him an ambulance.

“Where is your dad?” she asked. She couldn’t see much of his expression. He was staring at the ground as they walked. “Where are your friends?”

He didn’t answer.

When they finally got to the trailer, Betty took one glance around the living room, and then decided to move Jughead to the bathroom. Maybe the Jones men wouldn’t care about blood stains on the carpet, but Betty couldn’t go against her Cooper habits. 

As soon as she had helped settle Jughead into the bathtub, she stepped back. He looked terrible.

“I’m going to call an ambulance. I’ll be right back.” But before she could move, Jughead reached up and gripped her wrist.

“No, Betty,” he said, gruffly.

“Jughead, you’re bleeding. You probably need stitches. For all we know, you could have broken bones. You need to go to the hospital.”

“No.” This time, his voice was hard. He glared up at her, coldly. He had only spoken to her that way once before in all the years they had known each other. A year ago, when everything had ended.

She turned away, her emotions smarting as if she had been physically hit. She knew if he could see her eyes they would betray her feelings, so instead she walked away. “Fine,” was all she said, clipping her words to keep them steady.

From a previous, much more mundane experience, she knew that the Jones family kept a first aid kit under the kitchen sink. She went to retrieve it, taking deep breaths to calm herself as she did. 

_If he wants to act like this, just let him take care of himself_, came a voice in Betty’s head that sounded an awful lot like Veronica. Betty’s hurt feelings had given way to frustration, but she knew she couldn’t leave him like this. She would do what she could to patch him up. Then she would leave, like he clearly wanted her to.

By the time she made it back into the bathroom, she felt mostly fueled by anger, but as soon as she saw him again, his beaten state startled her all over again.

He was still awake, though slumped awkwardly against the side of the tub. As she walked back into the room, he stared at her without moving.

“You have blood on your shirt,” he said finally, after she had sat down on the floor next to the tub and set the first aid kit on the closed toilet lid.

“I’ll live,” she responded, icily.

He didn’t say anything more except for a few grunts of pain as she helped him out of his jacket and took a warm washcloth to his skin. The damage wasn’t as bad as it looked. It would take awhile for his face to heal, but after the wounds were cleaned, it was clear that he had mostly stopped bleeding.

She felt around at his abdomen and pressed her hands along his legs to test for any serious damage, but he just huffed at her. “My legs are fine. It’s fine.”

Betty pulled away and looked at him, “None of this is fine, Jughead.”

He stared back, and licked his lips, wincing involuntarily when his tongue hit the injured side of his mouth. After a few breaths, he spoke again. “And here I thought you hated me.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “I don’t hate you, Jughead. You’re the one who made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me.”

He went silent at that.

Suddenly, the bathroom felt almost claustrophobic. Betty stood up. “Let’s get you out of the bathtub, at least. I’ll see if I can find some clean clothes.”

When she stepped away, she could hear Jughead climbing out by himself, and she had to stop herself from immediately turning back to help him. When she handed him a clean pair of clothes, he shut the bathroom door, and changed by himself.

Once he was dressed, she helped set him down on the couch and took another look over his bandages.

_Now’s the time to leave_, she told herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She sat on the carpet next to him for a full ten minutes, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t even sure what she _wanted_ to do. Jughead had his eyes closed, as far as she could tell he had already fallen asleep. She could probably step away without him even noticing. Maybe she could try to find his cellphone and see if she could get one of his friends to come over and keep an eye on him.

Betty sat up and looked around the room, but her movement caught Jughead’s attention. His eyes opened, and he looked over at her. His expression was thoughtful for a moment. 

His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Can you stay?” he asked, his voice wavering, tentative and vulnerable. Betty felt her eyes tear up for a completely different reason this time.

Yes, she was still angry with him, she told herself, but she could never hate him.


	17. First Kiss & Makeovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope mashup First Kiss & Makeovers

Veronica stared down at Jughead with a harsh, discerning eye. “The bags under your eyes are almost purple. Your lips are chapped.” She stepped back with a dramatic huff, “I can’t work with this.”**  
**

“Betty!” she called in a dramatic voice, turning fully away from him. “Please, can you do something about _this_.”

Jughead could hear Betty laughing even before she stepped into the dressing room. As soon as their eyes met, she grinned, and then sat down across from him on the other side of the dressing mirror.

“Don’t listen to her,” she said, sympathetically. “She’s just in freak out mode. You look nice, Jughead.” She glanced down appreciatively at the black suit and tie he was dressed in.

“Thank god for that,” he said sarcastically, though it mattered more coming from her than he cared to admit.

Jughead’s participation in Veronica’s student film debut was supposed to be limited to the role of cameraman, but when Dilton had come down with the flu, Jughead found himself filling in for Mobster #3. It was a role involving little more than two brief lines, but according to Veronica was absolutely essential to sell the threat against the leading lady in the final scene.

Jughead had been almost excited about filming a cheesy film noir rip-off student film. He’d spent most of the last week watching rehearsals and testing out shots. If he had used some of that time primarily focusing on Betty, who was playing the role of the villain’s wife in a long black dress and fake fir, well, could anyone blame him?

Now, Betty was searching through a box of random makeup vials, and setting a few aside on the counter.

“Give me your arm,” she said, as she reached out a hand toward him. When he put his arm over her palm, she flipped it so that his hand was facing up and began rubbing one of the splotches of make-up on his wrist.

‘What are you doing?” 

“Figuring out which of these foundations matches your complexion,” she said as she moved on to a different vial.

When she decided on one, she reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand, staring up at his eyes. His entire body froze, but his heartbeat had started to kick into overdrive.

“Relax,” she said with a small smile. “I’m just going to put a little under your eyes.”

He wanted to relax. He tried to remind himself that the only reason she was doing this was because the bags under his eyes were so bad that they were going to be obvious even on a cheap student camera. 

Betty put her full attention on rubbing the solution into his skin. Her eyes were steady and focused. She was only a foot away from him at most, and he kept catching his eyes drifting down to her pink lips. She was biting down on her bottom lip thoughtfully, and it was sending Jughead down a thought spiral he couldn’t control. 

He could have sworn she caught him looking when she moved to the other side of his face. Briefly, her lips quirked with amusement, but just as quickly tightened back into a thin line, her attention still focused on applying the makeup.

When she was done, she leaned back and accessed her work. “There we go. It’s just evened out your coloring a bit.”

He glanced away, now starting to feel shy. “Uh, thanks. I guess.”

“Just one more thing,” she said, cheerfully. She reached over to her purse, which was sitting on the floor, and pulled out a small circular container. Jughead watched her as she twisted open the lid, ran her finger along the waxy surface and then reached over to tab it on his lips. She moved so quickly that Jughead instinctively leaned back.

Betty just laughed. “It’s chapstick. Just run your lips together like this.” She proceeded to run her lips together as an example.

The girl was going to be the death of him.

After taking a deep breath, he did as he was told. The wax on his lips was slippery and uncomfortable. When he pulled his lips apart, it almost felt like they would stick together. “This stuff is kind of gross, Betts.” 

“I think I might have put too much on. Look at me for a second.”

He did. She had put her hand back on his cheek, but there was an odd look on her face. He could see a sudden flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but then when she met his gaze, her expression grew decisive. 

Before he had time to process what was happening, Betty was leaning forward and had caught his lips with hers. She ran her lips along his, slick from the chapstick on his mouth. He felt each small movement through practically every nerve in his body. His mouth followed hers like a moth to a flame, even when she released him for a small breath of air before catching his lips one more time. Somehow, with the small part of his brain that hadn’t completely turned to mush, he was able to return the kiss this time. He caught her bottom lip in his and ran his tongue along his mouth.

When she pulled away, it took Jughead a moment to even remember where they were.

Betty licked her lips with a small, satisfied grin. Then, she reached back for something hanging off of the costume rack.

“There,” Betty said, setting a black fedora tightly on his head. “Go knock ‘em dead.”

He didn’t know how he was supposed to even say two lines when he had completely forgotten how to string two words together.


	18. Circus AU & Accidental Eavesdropping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope Mashup Circus AU & Accidental Eavesdropping

“Miss Elizabeth,” Ethel called from behind her. Betty waved at her with one hand without turning around. Ethel had been tasked with being her chaperone to the circus performance, and Betty knew that she was worried about getting in trouble for letting Betty do anything inappropriate.

Betty just wanted to get a better look behind the tent. To see what circus life was actually like. Betty had heard rumors. Animal mistreatment. Poor working conditions. The circus show itself had been all glitz and glamour, certainly, but looks could be deceiving.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Ethel said again when she had caught up with Betty, where she was peering through a thick curtain.

“Shush,” Betty said. “We’ll only get in trouble if we get caught.” 

Ethel responded with a beleaguered look.

“Just five minutes,” Betty whispered. Her words were interrupted by the rough sound of something hitting the floor. When she looked back through the gap in the curtain, she saw it wasn’t _something_, but _someone_.

A young man was lying across the ground with an overturned bucket beside him. Above him stood a wiry woman with a predatory smirk with a buff man with very visible scars beside her. 

“I heard you talking to the boss, Jughead,” the woman said with a sneer. “You vying for _my_ job?”

“_Your_ job,” the young man said with a laugh, “You mean the work everyone else does for you while you sit on your ass, Penny?” 

Ethel gasped beside her, and moved closer to whisper in her ear. “We should really go.” But Betty was more intrigued than ever.

Betty and Ethel both jumped at the sound of the woman kicking the young man in the stomach. He made a small groan of pain. “You don’t want to mess with me, kid,” she said, bitter acid in her voice.

Betty looked around her. There had to be some way to cause a distraction. When she stepped back from the curtain, she saw an open cart of apples nearby. She quickly ran over to it and turned the whole thing over, directed so a few of them would fall past the curtain where the individuals were standing.

“Betty!” Ethel hissed, for once dropping her respectful tone.

“Oh no,” Betty projected, loudly. “How could I be such a clutz.” 

It took a moment, but she could hear two footsteps moving away. The young man, who seemed to be called ‘Jughead’ pushed open the curtain and looked down at the mess she’d made.

“I’m terribly sorry about this,” she said to him. When he reached down to start picking up some of the apples, she added. “Let me help you.”

“It’s alright,” he said, simply. “I can take care of this.”

“No,” she said, this time leaning down to put a hand on his wrist. He looked up to meet her eyes, and blinked, as if only just seeing her for the first time. With a smile, she repeated, “Let me help you.”


	19. Bar AU & Summer Camp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope Mashup Bar AU & Summer Camp
> 
> Warning for implied underage drinking

It was the last night before the kids would arrive at camp. Betty was curled up in her bed in the camp counselor’s room she shared with her co-counselors Josie and Veronica. Josie had just painted her toenails and was spread out on the bed across from her waiting for them to dry. Veronica was longing in a bean bag chair flipping through a fashion magazine.

“I know what we should do,” Josie said, breezily. “We should go out and celebrate our last night of freedom.” Strictly speaking, they had spent the last week in camp training, but camp would be a very different environment once the kids arrived.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Betty said.

“Oh,” Veronica said with interest, “Actually one of the boys mentioned a bar just a few blocks away. He said they didn’t card either.” She met Josie’s eyes, and winked.

Josie grinned, “Perfect!”

Betty groaned, “C’mon guys… “

“Nope,” Veronica hopped out of her chair, “It’s decided. Bring out that little pink suitcase, Betty Cooper. Surely, we can find something in there that will work for a night out.”

In the end, Josie and Veronica had spent thirty minutes sorting through clothes. Betty didn’t own anything that spoke “night out at the bar” and even if she had, she wouldn’t have brought it to summer camp. They had settled on a pink sleeveless shirt with a heart shaped neckline, and a pair of skinny jeans. Compared to the glitzy tops they had thought to bring along, she looked a bit pedestrian. She told herself, It didn’t matter how she looked, she was just going to the bar because she didn’t want her friends to go alone.

She had second thoughts when they actually made it to the bar. The building itself looked like it was barely holding itself together, and there was a long line of motorcycles parked along the front. 

“Veronica…” Betty sighed, “Is this a biker bar?”

Veronica shrugged, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Interesting,” Josie said with an amused grin.

It was a biker bar, if all the men in leather was anything to go by. Somehow, even though it was in the middle of nowhere, the venue was full. Despite the clear decor and clientele, there was loud pop music playing over the speakers. Betty associated bikers with middle aged men with beards, but there were actually a surprising number of young people about. Still, young people in leather.

It didn’t take long for her to lose track of her friends. One minute they had been headed to the large jukebox in the back, and the next minute they had completely disappeared in the crowd of people. With a sigh, Betty wandered over to the bar, just to have a place to sit.

“Can I get you something?” The bartender was standing on the other side of the counter with a glass in his hand. He was young, possibly around her age, but he was dressed in the same leather jacket half the people in the bar were wearing. It was summer, but he was wearing a beanie over his head that would be more fitting for snow. He had nice eyes though, she thought. And there was a small curl of hair falling out of his hat that she couldn’t help but stare at.

“Just water,” she said, with a wave.

He nodded and scooped ice into a glass for her. As soon as he slid the water over to her, he immediately moved to others around the counter. He seemed familiar with everyone at the bar. 

When he had settled all of the orders, she found herself speaking up again. “You seem kind of young to be a bartender.”

He smiled at her, though it was barely more than a smirk, “You seem kind of young to be at a bar, honestly.”

Betty glanced away, uneasily, “I’m just here to keep an eye on my friends.”

He looked up and squinted over the crowd. “Ah, the other two newcomers, I’m guessing.”

“Do you know everyone who walks in here?”

He just shrugged, “Pretty much everyone who comes here is a local. There aren’t a lot of options out here.” His eyes flickered over to her. “You’re a part of the summer camp, right?”

Betty laughed, self-consciously picking at a loose strand of hair that had fallen over her cheek. The bartender followed her movement with his eyes. “You really do know everything that goes on around here.”

He smiled, “No, we just had some camp guys come in the other night.”

“Oh, right.”

She was saved by making any more of a fool of herself when he was called over by someone else at the bar. A few minutes later, Veronica and Josie collapsed onto stools beside her.

Veronica pulled on her arms, “We were wondering where you went.”

“Come dance with us,” Josie insisted, physically pushing her off her stool. 

“Okay, okay,” Betty said, but she before long she was dancing and laughing alongside them without a care in the world.

Except, when she stopped long enough to take in her surroundings, she could swear the cute bartender was still watching her from behind the bar.


	20. Time Travel/Historical AU/Detective AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt/trope mashup: Time Travel/Historical AU/Detective AU

It was mid-afternoon when there was a knock at the door. Jughead had been spending the past few hours unhappily staring down at a paragraph he had re-written six different times. He was on his fourth cup of coffee for the day and his focus was starting to give way to disjointed and irrelevant thoughts.

He could hear Mrs. Bell, his housekeeper, answer the door. He couldn’t distinguish her words, he could only hear the hum of her voice as she greeted the visitor. It still felt odd to him that he had a housekeeper at all. Before his last book had been published, he never would have been able to afford it. With her assistance, he could now dedicate his entire morning to writing one paragraph, rather poorly.

He was interrupted from his train of thought when Mrs. Bell knocked on the door to his study and leaned her head in. “Mr. Jones, you have a visitor here to see you.”

Jughead closed his notebook and leaned back. “Concerning what exactly?” He hadn’t been expecting anyone. His editor had promised him a month before he would be expected to provide an update on his progress.

“It’s a young lady,” she said, and with her voice low she added, “Very peculiar. She had some questions about your work.”

The location of his apartment wasn’t widely known, but it wasn’t unheard of for fans of his work to come to visit. He glanced back down at his desk for a moment. It wasn’t as if he was getting anything more accomplished as it was. With a brief shrug, he acquiesced, “Let her in.” 

After a few minutes, Mrs. Bell led the guest up to his study and directed her into the room. Immediately, he knew what Mrs. Bell had meant when she said the young woman was _peculiar_. She was dressed in a pair of men’s slacks with a collared shirt and a long jacket made of pink canvas. Her blonde hair was tied back behind her head in a tight ponytail. She had a set of three jewel earrings up the side of her ears and an unusual watch at her wrist. Instead of a clock face, it showed the current hour in digits. 

As he took in all the details of her appearance, he was repeatedly distracted by one singular thing. He found she was indisputably beautiful.

Jughead stood up and reached a hand out to her. “Good afternoon,” he said, his words felt awkward on his tongue. “I am F.P. Jones. You’ve come about my work?”

With a blink, she reached out to take his hand, and pulled it into a steady handshake. “Yes. I…” She seemed to hesitate just a moment. “I’m here to ask you about the book you wrote,_ Death Chimes at Midnight_. The plot of the book is very similar to the details of the Black Hood murders.”

_Ah_, he thought with disappointment. This would be one of _those_ conversations. “You think I’m involved.” He sat down at his desk with a sigh. “You aren’t the first to think so, but I have been interviewed by the police on the subject and they have cleared me of all suspicion.” Though not with much respect or consideration, and certainly without an apology. 

The young woman’s brow creased, and she gave him a confused stare. “What?” She shook her head, as if to shake the whole subject off. “No, that’s not what I mean. From reading your work, it’s clear that you’ve put a lot of research into the crimes. That is what I am interested in.”

“My research?” Jughead asked. He was caught off-guard. No one had ever considered his books more than the product of an active imagination. Even the police had dismissed it, when he told them that he had been following their investigation very closely, and that that was how he had written many of the details that led them to suspect him of the crimes. “What need do you have for my research, Miss…” He realized then that she hadn’t told him her name.

“Betty Cooper,” she said with a tight nod. “I’ve come here because I think you can help me solve the Black Hood murders. In fact, I think I know who it is, I just need proof.”

He leaned forward at that, “Who do you suspect of being the killer?”

“My great-gran-” She stopped abruptly with a shake of her head. “Sorry, I mean, my uncle.” Jughead thought it was an odd slip of the tongue, but chose not to press her on it.

“Many people have mistakenly thought the murder was someone they knew,” he said slowly.

“I’m not _many people_,” she said boldly, and he found himself believing her. “So, will you help me?”

“Yes,” he answered, and he wasn’t sure if it was the mystery of the crime or the mystery of the woman herself that compelled him to say so.


	21. Accidentally Married/Flirting Under Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope Mash up: Accidentally Married/Flirting Under Fire

However Jughead had expected to be married, it certainly wasn’t like this. **  
**

He found himself standing at the front of an old, derelict chapel in a dusty jacket and a pair of pants he had been wearing for the past two days. Beside him was the officiant, with FP and one of his drinking friends standing off to the side to act as witnesses. His wife-to-be stood beside him in a simple white dress with a veil over her face.

Jughead Jones was going to be married to Polly Cooper, all for the sum amount of 500 dollars. 

He didn’t know why her family was so desperate to marry her off to a man with no money, who would barely even had a name for himself if not for the fact that his great-grandfather had been a man of nobility. 

What Jughead did know was that if he wanted to save the life of a friend, he needed that 500 dollars immediately. For the past week, he and his father had been trying to pull together the cash to save Sweet Pea’s hide. At the very last minute, FP had found them an option. He hadn’t said exactly how he had found a family that was willing to pay to have their daughter married off as quickly as possible, but by that point, Jughead was far too desperate to ask questions. 

Jughead didn’t hold any illusions about the situation. It was very likely that the girl was pregnant and just needed a husband to keep the kid from being born a bastard. There had to be some kind of scandal her parents were trying to cover up to go as far as this.

He had met his wife-to-be once, briefly, the day before. As FP was spending the day tracking down a priest to officiate the wedding, Jughead had gone to meet his new fiancé at the inn she was staying at in preparation for the wedding. Polly Cooper was every bit the kind of polished, pampered girl Jughead expected someone of her stature to be, but there was an uncanny wistfulness in her eyes that Jughead found hard to read. In meeting her, he had only wanted to make sure of one thing, that she approved of the marriage, and that she wasn’t being married under duress.

‘This is precisely what I want.” she said with an easy smile, “Thank you.” 

They hadn’t spoken about what their marriage would_ exactly_ entail, but Jughead supposed they would have plenty of time for that after the wedding.

As the priest droned through an oft-used and well-rehearsed speech, Jughead stood awkwardly in front of his bride, her face and emotions still hidden behind her lace veil. It was in that moment that it fully hit him that the complete stranger in front of him was about to be tied to him for the rest of his life. To quell the anxieties that were building up in his gut, he reached a hand out to hers, softly cupping the side of her hand with his palm. He could feel her start at his touch, but before he could pull away, she had placed her other hand over his, encompassing his hand with her own.

Jughead wasn’t even listening to the priest’s speech anymore, so he was surprised when it was suddenly over. It took him a moment to realize that the priest was looking over at him expectantly.

“You are now married,” the priest said. With an impatient look, he motioned over to the bride with a tilt of his head.

“Oh,” Jughead said awkwardly. He reached a hand toward his new wife, and delicately lifted her veil over her head.

But the woman under the wedding veil was not Polly Cooper. Or at least, not the Polly Cooper he had met the day before. They were strikingly similar, but where Miss Polly Cooper’s eyes had been opaque and unreadable, this woman’s eyes were clear and expressive. The look she was giving him now, as he stared down at her in shock, was one of determination and challenge. Before he could form words well enough to speak, she took his head in her hands and pulled him down into a kiss.

Once they had pulled apart, FP clapped Jughead on the back. “I’ve got everything we need for Sweet Pea, so just leave that all to me. Have a few days to get adjusted to married life, yeah?”

Jughead’s new wife smiled up at FP. Her smile was pleasant, but she was holding Jughead’s hand in a vice grip to keep him from speaking. “Thank you so much, Mr. Jones.”

With a wink, FP tipped his hat, and walked out of the chapel, his buddy close behind. 

“What-” Jughead said as soon as they had left, but his wife was still smiling tightly, her eyes on the priest a few feet away from them. The priest met her gaze with some surprise, but soon with a slight bow, also made his leave of the chapel.

Jughead sighed and tried again, “What is this? Who are you?”

“I’m Betty.” When Jughead didn’t show any response to her name, she added, “I’m Polly’s sister. And now your wife. It is a pleasure to meet you.” She gave him a small curtsy, somehow making the act look sarcastic. 

In that one swift moment, he realized with some shock that he fancied his new wife. _Really_ fancied her.

He swallowed and continued with his questioning. “Alright, but _why?_” 

“It’s true that my parents were willing to pay you to marry my sister. What they don’t know is that they just paid you to marry me instead. And now my sister can run off with the man they hoped to separate her from, while we buy her time as a distraction.”

“We’re a distraction,” Jughead repeated, dully.

“Are you unhappy? Your side of the deal was still met. You’ve been paid to be married to a woman you don’t know. Does it matter than you have been married to her sister instead?”

“No, It’s not-” Of all of the things he was feeling, he couldn’t exactly say _unhappy _was one of them. “Are you alright with this?”

“Me?” Betty said with a small shrug. “You’re attractive. So far, you’ve been kind enough. I have reason to believe that the only reason you are getting married like this in the first place is to save a friend. None of these things are bad traits in a new husband.”

Jughead could feel his cheeks warming, “Yes, but-”

“Also,” Betty interrupted. “While my parents had been willing to disown one daughter, I hardly think they would be willing to disown both of their daughters. If you are prepared to stick with me and wait for things to sort out, we may also have my allowance to live on.”

“You really have thought all of this out.”

“Of course I have,” his wife said with a genuine smile.

“Alright,” Jughead said, not quite managing to hold back a smile of his own, “Til death do us part.”

At that, her smile only grew larger, and leaned forward to kiss him again. This time, softly and sweetly.


	22. Mutual Pining/Curses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope Mash up: Mutual Pining/Curses
> 
> Warning for blood, injuries, magic spells using blood, etc.

It was often said that hubris was a Sorcerer’s greatest enemy. From Jughead’s current position, bleeding out on the stone floor of the Serpent’s den, he was pretty certain his greatest enemy went by another name, Penny Peabody.**  
**

His plan to run her out of the Serpent’s circle had failed disastrously. At the last minute, just as he had nearly completed the banishment spell, she had cut into him with her own magic. Overwhelmed by searing pain, he had toppled to the ground, his body limp and numb. Now he could only watch as she drew a magic circle around his body, the lines painted with his own blood. 

Blood magic had long been banned from the academy, so he couldn’t recognize the spell she was casting. But whatever it was, it was going to be nasty.

When Penny stepped out in front of him, he could see that her mouth was split into a wide, mocking grin. His stomach churned with panic.

“Too bad, kid. I guess I could’a just banished you, just like you wanted to banish me. But honestly, it’ll be a lot more fun to watch despair in your own misery.” With a flick of her wrist, she lit a match, and threw it into the magic circle. The lines of blood surrounding him erupted in ghostly flame.

“I curse you,” she said, with a frenzied sort of joy, “to ruin everything you touch.” As she took a few steps back, Penny was still smiling. “I curse you to a life of misery.”

.....

It was the early hours of the morning when Jughead managed to pull himself off the Serpents’ floor and start to painfully make his way through the woods back to the academy. 

He shared a room with Archie, a young paladin in training, who, luckily for Jughead, typically slept like the dead. When Jughead finally made it to his bed, he was weary all the way down to his bones. He collapsed face first onto his pillow and didn’t wake up for three days.

.....

The curse settled into him like an invisible second skeleton attached at the base of his spine. He could almost feel it move around him of its own accord, lashing out at his surroundings without warning. A week into the curse, Jughead had gone to replenish his vial of Frankincense during potions class, and all three shelves had come loose from the wall and collided into the floor in a dramatic crash.

During his free time, he had begun secluding himself as much as possible in one of the unfurnished watchtowers above the library. He told anyone who asked that he was busy with research, which, strictly speaking, was true. Jughead was scouring the library’s resources for anything that might give any clue to how to cleanse a blood curse. So far, he had found nothing.

.....

“Jughead.” Betty had found him in his secluded corner, which didn’t exactly surprise him. Unfortunately, it did mean he would need to find another hiding spot as soon as possible. “You said you were going to join us for stargazing this month. Where were you last night?”

He had agreed to that, several weeks ago, back when he’d thought he’d be rid of Penny and his problems would be officially behind him.

Betty was a student of the very small and experimental Magitech department within the academy. Their paths likely would have never crossed if not for the fact that they shared a few friends from other departments. Betty was the kind of person who took an interest in all of her friends’ pursuits with an equal amount of enthusiasm and consideration, and within a very short time, Jughead had found himself completely enamored with her.

But, well, that was before _hubris_ had gotten the better of him.

Jughead looked down at the book in front of him and feigned disinterest. “I was busy.”

“Busy… researching.” Her voice was thoughtful, but there was a bitter edge of disbelief in her words. Jughead didn’t dare to look up to read her expression.

“Yes,” he replied, curtly.

For a full minute, she stood on the other side of his desk without making any motion to leave.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked dismissively. The words felt like cold shards of ice, painfully scraping against the back of his throat. 

“No, I suppose not,” she said with a sigh, and quietly left the room. As soon as she was gone, Jughead looked up. The room felt so much emptier than it had only minutes before. With a breath, Jughead dried his eyes with the back of his hand and turned back to his book miserably.

.....

After that, Jughead had no trouble keeping to himself. The curse was still a problem, but more of an inconvenient one than one of full on disaster. When he was secluded, the curse was mostly limited to clumsy mishaps, like spilled ink and faulty spells. However, the one time he had given in to Archie’s requests to join him in the mess hall, a glass bowl had broken into pieces and sliced Archie’s hand open.

The library’s resources had provided him with no answers. He would need to find another alternative to getting the information he needed. To ask the Serpents for help would mean telling them what he had tried to do to one of their own, and that would easily get him kicked from the circle. To be removed from them would greatly weaken his magic abilities at the time that he needed them the most. 

No one from the circle had come for him since the night he was cursed. It seemed that Polly hadn’t told them what he had done. It was likely that she was more interested in getting to watch him suffer from the side lines, and was just waiting for the right moment to add the final blow to his misery.

His friends at the academy had mostly stopped approaching him. Sometimes he could feel their watching eyes in class or in the mess hall, but mostly, they let him be.

It hurt a little, that his friendships had fallen away so easily, but, he reminded himself, he had never had much to offer their group from the beginning. They would do fine without them, and in the meantime, he would figure out his own situation on his own.

He was two months into his self-mandated seclusion when he found Betty waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs below his study area.

“Betty,” he said in a breath. He had barely seen her in weeks, he didn’t dare to even look her way when they happened to pass in the halls. “What are you doing here?”

Betty walked up to him, peering up to look at his face. She looked tired. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her hair was tied back messily behind her head. “It’s been a rough two months,” she said, “but everything will be okay. I just need you to trust me.”

He wanted to ask what she meant, but before he could speak, Betty had plunged a dagger into his side. A painful spark ran along his spine, and he blacked out instantly.

When he woke up, the situation he found himself in was uncomfortably familiar. He was laying across the concrete floor of the Magitech classroom, the lines of a magic circle drawn around him. The section in his side where Betty had stabbed him ached painfully, but when he ran his hand over it, he found no wound. His body was heavy, but he could move around just enough to see that he was in the company of Betty and their mutual friends. Archie, Veronica, Josie, Kevin, and even Cheryl were all standing in a circle around him, with Betty at the head, holding the charm together in a silent chant.

“Hang in there, bud,” Archie said, almost cheerfully, despite the fact that he was dripping blood from the palm of his hand down onto the magic circle below him.

“What’s-” as he tried to speak, Jughead shifted to try to sit up.

“Don’t you dare move,” Cheryl ordered. “You’ll mess everything up, and it was a pain to get this right.”

He leaned back on the ground, it was easier than sitting up anyway. “What are you doing?”

“Blood magic,” Josie answered. “Did you forget Betty’s mom was a blood mage back in the day?”

“It’s one of the worst kept secrets in the academy,” Kevin added, gleefully.

“Everyone hush,” Veronica added, “We need to concentrate.”

After a breath, they all began chanting in unison, and the lines of the magic circle ignited in flames. A strange warmth filled the air. Jughead could feel it sinking into him, settling into his chest, his bones, his spine. The heat ran up his shoulders, slowly burning away the heavy weight of the curse from his body.

As the heat died down, Jughead found himself leaning forward on his knees, taking deep, heaving breaths. “What did you do?” he asked, in between gasps.

Betty stepped into the circle and knelt down beside him. “We’ve made a new coven. Linked by our blood. As long as we are together, no blood curse can harm you.” Softly she reached up to touch his cheek. “We’ve missed you, Jughead. Welcome back.”


	23. Forgotten First Meeting/ Love Confessor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope Mash Up prompt: Forgotten First Meeting/ Love Confessor (Character A confessing their love for Character B to Character C)
> 
> Lots of Jughead's Time Police references!

“Alright,” Betty said, as she unrolled a large map of Riverdale across two sets of desks. She had to put a hand out on the edge of the map to keep the paper from folding back in. Jughead grabbed a nearby stapler to serve as a paperweight.

“Let’s take another look at each of the crime scene locations and run through our suspect list again.” As she spoke, she pulled a sticker sheet of brightly colored dots and began to stick them on the map at all the relevant locations.

Jughead glanced over at their murder board. “We’ve eliminated most of the suspects…” 

“Yes,” Betty said, uncertainly. “But I want to run through their alibis again. Maybe there’s something we missed.”

“So meticulous, as always,” Jughead said with a groan, but when Betty glanced up at him, he couldn’t help meet her gaze with a smile. She gave him a small, amused smirk and then returned to the map.

Then everything froze.

Jughead crossed his arms and let out a frustrated sigh. “What are you doing, Jan? Our scheduled rendezvous isn’t until next week.”

“There’s been a change of plans.”

Deputy January McAndrews was sitting on top of a desk on the other side of the room. As always, she was dressed in 29th century clothes, a full body suit adorned with a golden utility belt. Personally, Jughead preferred how 21st century clothing actually allowed for _layers_, but he had learned very early in their partnership that January liked to keep to her personal style regardless of the era she was in.

“I’ve finally found the point of time diversion. It’s earlier in this timeline than we expected.”

“What?” Jughead said, dread already growing in his stomach. He glanced over at Betty. She was frozen in time, staring down at the map in a thoughtful look of concentration.

“We’ll need to backtrack. Reset the timeline.”

“No,” he argued. “We can’t. We’re so close to finding the person who has been on a murder spree in Riverdale. We can’t just start all over.”

January’s expression tightened, “Jughead, stopping the moment of time diversion is what we _came_ here for. If we eliminate the interference from the point of introduction, there may not even be any murders at all.”

“Yeah, but…” 

January studied him for a moment, and followed his gaze to the person frozen in time just a few feet away from him. With a blink her entire demeanor suddenly changed. “Well gosh, dang.” 

“What,” Jughead said, looking at January impatiently. He had tried so many times to tell her that people from the 21st century didn’t actually speak like the comic books she’d read as a kid.

“You’ve fallen for the Civ.”

“_What_,” he said again. Even he could hear the defensiveness in his tone. Instinctively, his eyes tracked back over to Betty, still frozen and locked out of the conversation.

January whistled, “Rookie move, Jug.”

He turned to glare at her, “Says the cadet who found a new girl to flirt with at each new time jump during our training.”

“That’s exactly my point. It was just flirting. They knew it was just for fun. I knew it was just for a short time. No one got hurt.”

Jughead fell back into a chair with an angry huff. He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to lose the time he’d spent in Riverdale. The time he’d spent with Betty.

January slid down from her perch on the desk, and walked over to him, her boots clicking against the linoleum floor. “Look,” she said as she put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. “We’ll go back and fix the divergence. Then maybe, if you’re lucky, there will still be a murder to solve. And, this time, you can actually tell your 21st century lady that you’re a time traveler from the 29th century and you’re in love with her. Maybe she’ll be into that.”

“Shut up, Jan,” he clipped back. But weirdly enough, it did make him feel a bit better.


	24. Florist AU & Hospital AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope Mashup Florist AU & Hospital AU

There was a knock at her hospital room door. Betty set her book down in her lap as the biggest flower arrangement she had seen in her life pushed its way through the door. She could barely make out the person underneath, visible only as a pair of legs sliding awkwardly into the room.

“Delivery for Betty Cooper,” came a voice behind the mass of flowers.

“Oh, dear,” she said. A young man came into view as he turned to the side and placed the arrangement on the table against the wall. He was dressed in teal overalls with the distinct cursive logo of “Topaz Flowers” on the back. 

He pulled a small card from between two large peonies. Briefly, he glanced up at her, responding to her beleaguered expression with a small smile, then he read the message aloud, “To brighten that dreary room during your recovery. I’m so sorry I can’t be there with you. Love-”

“Veronica,” she interrupted with a sigh. “I’m so sorry about this.”

He was still smiling, and his answering shrug held no bite. “Your partner?”

“My best friend. She’s previewing a fashion line internationally right now, and I think she’s forgotten how normal people live.” She ended her explanation with a laugh, but paused when she noticed that his expression had grown serious. It took her a moment to realize that he was staring at her book.

“How’s the book?” he asked, still casual, despite the new straightness in his posture.

She lifted it up from her lap. The Secret of the Cracked Mirror by F.P. Jones III. Holding it up so that he could see the cover, she smiled. “It’s great. Not very well known yet, but it’s really blowing up in crime literature circles.” She didn’t say that she was a frequent participant in those circles, but she did add, “I think I might just have the mystery figure out. Do you like crime fiction?”

He ducked his head, this time smiling much more shyly. “Yeah, I-” he cleared his throat, his cheeks were starting to grow red. “I wrote that. I’m F.P. Jones.” He motioned to his uniform. “This is my day job.”

“You’re kidding! Really?”

At her eagerness, he laughed. “Really.” 

He pulled up a chair beside her recovery bed and leaned forward with his elbow on his knee. “Now, please tell me, what exactly do you have all figured out?”


	25. Locked in a Room & Did They or Didn't They?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope Mashup: Locked in a Room & Did They or Didn't They?

Twenty minutes in and he was already starting to regret joining in a midnight gathering with his new prep school classmates. Breaking into the teacher’s lounge with its elegant leather upholstery and well-stocked liquor cabinet had sounded intriguing several hours ago when his roommate had persuaded him to come, but from the minute Cheryl Blossom had started a game of spin-the-bottle on the center table, it was clear that this wasn’t going to be any more sophisticated than any other cliche teenage party.

Just as he was beginning to plan a quiet escape, his eyes caught Betty Cooper’s from across the room. As soon as their eyes met, she flashed a sympathetic smile. This didn’t exactly seem like her scene either, but over the last few weeks, Jughead had come to realize that wherever Cheryl Blossom chose to socialize, her cousin was also expected to be.

Conspiratorially, Jughead rolled his eyes so that Betty could see it from where she was standing. That was his first mistake, because, of course, it caught the sharp attention of the party host.

“Stop trying to hide in the corner, Charity Case” She was referring to him. Nevermind that he was hardly the only kid at the party under a scholarship. “You’re next.” She spun the empty bottle sharply, sending it into a quick, frenzied rotation.

It was if the whole room had stilled, everyone looking to watch the bottle’s trajectory. As it continued to spin, Jughead considered just running, abandoning the party entirely. 

_They can’t make you do anything_, he reminded himself. _This game is built entirely on peer pressure and flimsy high school level social dynamics._ He also knew that if he walked off now, his classmates would hold it over him for the rest of his high school career.

Abruptly, everything stopped. While he was still mid-panic, Betty had walked over to the table and grabbed the bottle mid-spin with the neck pointed in her direction. Immediately, the room reacted with a series of drawn out and excited “Ooooh”s.

“This one’s mine,” Betty said with casual confidence, before reaching a hand toward him. Any words he might have said then were left lodged in his throat. She slipped her hand around his, and escorted him into the small coat closet tucked away in the corner of the room.

It was only as the door was shutting behind them that he even noticed that Cheryl had followed them. Through the open slit in the door, she gave Jughead one last judging look, before locking them into the closet.

“Uh,” he said, unintelligibly when he turned back to Betty. There was a small slit of light coming in through the crack in the door, just enough that he could see Betty smiling up at him. 

“Thanks. For the save.” He leaned back against the wall of the closet, praying that it would make him seem much more confident in the moment than he was. “So, what. We have to make it look like we made-out in here to appease your cousin and her cohorts?”

“Hmmm,” she replied, low in her throat. Even from two feet away, he felt the sound reverberate through his chest. “Isn’t the point they won’t be able to tell? As far as they know, maybe something happened. Or maybe something didn’t.” She stepped forward and reached a hand to his forehead, pulling a strand of hair out from underneath his beanie. “Which would you like it to be?”


	26. Accidental Eavesdropping & Innocent Physical Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope Mashup: Accidental Eavesdropping & Innocent Physical Contact
> 
> Warning for mentions of gore and murder

Jughead hated being out in public. There were too many people, moving too quickly. It was inevitable that he would end up touching someone. Clipping him in the arm, rushing in front of him at the subway card station, shoulders bumping against his as the subway moved to the next station.

Each brief contact flooded Jughead’s brain with foreign, unwelcome knowledge. A simple touch was all it took for Jughead to read someone’s mind.

The depictions varied, not everyone thought in the same way. Some people thought in a flurry of non-stop words, others in clear images so vivid that sometimes Jughead confused the visions with his own memories. Others were more foggy, a fluttering mix of emotions that left him feeling detached from his own body.

He had spent his life doing his best to stay away from crowds, but JB was performing with her band in the city, and she had been insistent that he come to see her. He had agreed under the clear terms that it would be the one and only time he would come to watch her in public. From now on, he would watch her perform in the garage where her band practiced every week, and nowhere else.

Somehow, he was able to make it to the bar with minimal contact, but just as he was about to reach the door, a stranger’s heeled boot collided with the side of his converses, sending them both off balance. Instinctively, he steeled himself for the impact, physically and mentally as he reached out to steady the young woman in front of him.

The emotions that echoed through him were scattered, frightened. An image seared into his mind. Blood. Blood everywhere. Gruesome, lifeless eyes.

As Jughead looked down at the young woman in his arms, dressed almost like a school teacher in a collared shirt, pastel sweater and long skirt, he could only barely see the traces in her eyes of the fear trapped in her head.

His vision left him certain of two things. The young woman in front of him had killed someone. And the man she had killed had done things much, much worse.


	27. Werewolf Jughead/ Witch Betty drabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a series of drabbles all within the same AU!
> 
> warning for murder, guns

**Echo**

The wet leaves clung to her bare feet as Betty tread deeper into the forest. She could hear distant movement. With a deep breath, she sang out, “Awwooooo!” Her voice was unmistakably human, but the bundle of burnt herbs she held in front of her should help to mask her scent. 

A thrill ran through her at his echoing call. Listening for the sound of his approach, Betty stood absolutely still. She could see his eyes through a gap between the large tree limbs, could just make out the shape of his sharp fangs in the shadows.

She wasn’t afraid.

**Wrong Turn**

Jughead woke in the forest, as he had every full moon since turning fourteen. He wore only his frayed blue jeans, his beanie tucked into his back pocket. As he reached to pull it back over his head, he sniffed the air.

Something was different.

His memories during his transformation were never more than a fog, an intangible mix of sensation.. This time there was something more, the faint softness of a hand at the crown of his head. Sweet words.

Just beyond him were the clear tracks of bare human feet headed down an unfamiliar path. He followed them.

**Spell**

It had been months since Betty had found her home in a fractured cottage abandoned in the middle of the forest. A tree had grown up through the rotting wood of the floor, twisting limbs stretched through the broken window. Many would call the cottage uninhabitable. Betty found its slanted roof and deteriorated walls a comfort from the elements. She respected nature, and nature respected her in kind.

Betty had encircled the cottage in twine, tying a charm of protection at the base. Now she returned to it, tucking fur into the charm pocket. Welcoming a friend into her circle.

**Murder Your Darlings**

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said the second time they met.

“You won’t,” she smiled. “You were really very sweet. I know you’re lonely.”

She was right, of course. 

Jughead hadn’t entered her little circle of twine, staying several feet back, even though she had invited him to join her. 

Jughead had been abandoned, exiled, by his pack for trying to kill another wolf. He had hated Penny, of course, her obvious attempts at subterfuge, her plans to rid the pack of him. His father had no choice but exile. 

Betty reached her hand out, “I’m lonely too.”

**Male Jewelry**

Betty sat next to her little garden, sewing herbs into the threads of a bracelet. Jughead sat beside her eating from a basket of apples she’d collected. Betty lifted the bracelet up to his nose, and laughed when he grimaced and tilted away.

“The herbs will be less potent once they dry.” She reached over and ran hand across his cheek, just like she had when he’d been in wolf form. “This will help soothe your nerves,” she explained.

He didn’t flinch away, only watched her with those wary, thoughtful eyes of his. Maybe one day she would kiss him.

**Broken Promise**

As he prowled toward the forest, he had given her a look, as if to say “I’ll be back.”

It had been hours since then.

Betty stood nervously within her barrier. She felt ill-prepared to wander the night, no indication of how far he’d gone. 

At the sound of an ear-splitting gunshot, she rushed forward, tripping over her barrier twine. 

She saw the musket, glinting under the moonlight in a hunter’s hand. Her wolf was on the ground, lashing in pain.

The man fell, his neck twisted by an invisible force. Betty’s hand was held out. She gasped for breath.

**Shovel**

Jughead woke in pain. He felt the bandage at his side, packed with herbs. He was laying on a cushion in Betty’s cottage, tucked underneath the remaining roof.

He forced himself to his feet, pushing through the pain. Through the window, he could see Betty shoveling dirt. When he joined her outside, he could see the feet of a corpse in the dirt in a large hole under her shovel.

As he approached, she turned away. Her fingers were caked with dirt; she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I swore to myself this wouldn’t happen again.”

**Words I Can’t Say**

She expected the way he looked at her to change, and it had changed, but not in the way she’d thought. After she had confessed to him all of her past mistakes, revealed the blood staining her hands, his response had been to hold her tightly. 

He’d thanked her for saving him. She had tried so many times to save people. No one had ever thanked her before.

He touched her often now. Curling up around her at night. Reaching for her hand during the day. Was it for comfort during his recovery? Was it affection? She didn’t dare ask.

**Moonbeams**

The next full moon was still nights away, but Jughead was growing restless. He often did before his next transformation, but this was something new. Betty was sitting across from him, the moonlight illuminating her sewing.

He wanted to close the distance between them, to bury his head in her neck. He imagined her fingers buried in his hair as he licked, kissed and bit at her skin. 

Her eyes met his burning stare. Her body shivered. He watched hungrily as she moved, re-positioning to sit across his lap. With his hands, his lips, his tongue, he confessed every thought.


	28. Innocent Physical Contact/Magical Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope mash up: Innocent Physical Contact/Magical Accident
> 
> Warnings for resurrection/death

Betty had spent years researching arcane magics, all for the purpose of completing this one spell. She’d had to make connections in black markets all around the world to collect the ingredients needed to perform it. She’d spent all of her savings, fulfilled a number of questionable favors.

It would all be worth it. Only a handful of people had ever completed the spell, but she was certain she could manage it. She would use magic to bring her sister back from the dead. The hard part was done, all that was left was to ignite her brewed concoction at midnight in the cemetery where Polly’s body was held. 

Betty hadn’t expected to feel so nervous when she finally initiated the spell. She had always been so sure that as soon as she reached out, Polly would be waiting for her, reaching back from the other side.

Betty called her sister’s name out into the darkness, but the response was silence.

“Polly!” she yelled. “I’m here!” Betty reached out a hand into the darkness. “You just need to touch me, and I can pull you back!” 

Her voice sounded small, even as she called out into the night. Had the night always been this cold? Betty swallowed a lump in her throat. 

Maybe Polly couldn’t reach her where she was. Betty took a few steps forward, awkwardly groping at the dark. 

She could just make out a sound. A low voice. The small lilt of a question she could not hear.

Betty ran forward, away from her little circle of magic, into the shadows where she couldn’t see. In her eagerness, she collided with a tombstone, toppling forward. But instead of falling onto dirt and grass, she collapsed onto a warm body. She felt the person jolt with surprise. 

“Polly?” she asked, reaching for their face.

She realized almost immediately that it couldn’t be her. The shape was all wrong, a sharp chin, solid shoulders.

“How?” spoke the stranger, voice low and unfamiliar. “Who are you?”

“I-” When her hands let go of his shoulders, a layer of dirt came loose from his shirt. Oh no, she thought. Her voice came out pained when she spoke, “Were… you dead?”

Her eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. She could just make out a pair of startled, weary eyes. He was young, like her, but he looked like he had just woken up from a very, very long sleep. 

“Aren’t I?” His voice just as weary as his eyes.


	29. Love Confessor/Coffee Shop AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope Mash up: Love Confessor/Coffee Shop AU

“You’re staring at that barista,” Veronica said, voice warmly smug as she took a sip from one of the cafe’s large ceramic mugs. The milk layer of Veronica’s latte had been fashioned into the elegant, but familiar, design of a leaf that the coffee shop was known for.

Betty’s had come in the shape of a rose, delicate petals branching out near the rim of the cup. She had yet to even take a sip, afraid to distort the image. Still. She could feel herself blushing at Veronica’s tone. “I should leave him an extra tip. His work is beautiful.” Betty ran her thumb along the edge of the mug.

If anything, Veronica’s grin only grew more pronounced. “You should. With your number.”

“Veronica…” Betty whined.

“You’ve gotta put yourself out there, B.”

Betty discreetly glanced back over at the counter, where the barista was selecting a muffin out of the counter display for a customer. She had only been coming to this cafe for a few weeks, but the barista had stuck out to her immediately, with his odd knitted hat that somehow fit right in with his uniform of a white collared shirt, dark trousers and burgundy apron. When he looked down at the cash register to type in an order, a small twist of hair would fall over his face. He was pretty, and in a way that she was sure plenty of other customers had noticed. Who was she to him out of the hundreds of customers he saw every day?

Betty had tried to make note of his name the first time she saw him. His nametag read Jughead, and after all this time, she wasn’t sure whether the name was a joke or not. She would like to call him by name, start a conversation, build a rapport, but she was afraid that if she tried to call him by the name on his nametag, she wouldn’t be in on the joke, and afterward would only have her embarrassment to show for it.

She turned back to Veronica. “And what if I embarrass myself so thoroughly that we can’t ever come back here?”

Veronica leveled her a look. “Please, if anyone is going to embarrass themselves, it will be him. You’re a smoke show, and he’ll be tripping over his own tongue just trying to please you.”

“V,” Betty hissed.

Veronica shrugged breezily, “I’m serious.”

Betty bit at her lip, weighing her options. Steeling herself, she took one large sip of her coffee, before putting it back down and reaching into her purse for a spare sheet of paper. 

“If this goes south, we’ll never find a coffee shop this good anywhere close to the apartment.” 

“Stop worrying,” Veronica teased.

With a few bills, a note with her name and number tucked underneath it, Betty marched over to the counter.

The barista - _Jughead_, she reminded herself- blinked at her sudden approach. Before he could speak, she shoved the bills into his hand. “Thank you,” she said, remembering belatedly to smile. “Your work is lovely.”

“Uh, Thanks.” He didn’t move, awkwardly frozen in place, the bills cupped in his open hand. 

“Well,” she said, her cheeks were quickly starting to burn. “Bye,” she chirped, flipping around to make a quick retreat.

“Wait.” 

When she turned back to him, he was looking down at his open hand. He pulled the note loose from under the collection of bills. Then he glanced up and gave her a relieved, almost amused, crooked smile. “Betty.” She felt a strange thrill of happiness just in hearing him say her name. “I’m Jug,” he said. “I’ll-” his expression grew sheepish. “I’ll call you?”

“Good.” Betty responded, an uncontrollable smile blooming on her face. She repressed the giggle that was forming in her throat. “I’m looking forward to it.” Her ponytail bounced against her neck as she turned away, feeling much more confident this time. 

When Betty returned to her seat, Veronica was smiling into her cup of coffee, but said nothing.


	30. Baby Fic/Secret Relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trope mash up: Baby Fic/Secret Relationship

As little as five years ago, this was the last place Jughead had expected to be. Hiram Lodge’s lackey, helping with his business by day, doing his dirty work by night. How exactly he had found himself in this position was a long story that had started with Archie getting involved with Hiram in their youth, and quickly snowballed from there. Still to this day, Archie was deeply in debt to the Lodges, and Hiram was a man who ensured that all his debts were paid.

Jughead only knew of one way guaranteed to clear the score, and that was to take down Hiram Lodge completely. If that meant living inside the lion’s den, so be it.

Jughead was standing at attention by the rear door of Hiram’s stately drawing room when the front door opened, guests escorted by another of Hiram’s men. Hiram stood up from the table at the center of the room as two women approached. One, his daughter, the other, her arm linked with Veronica Lodge’s-

“Betty Cooper,” Hiram greeted, clapping his hands in the performance of good nature. “It’s good to see you. You’ve been away from the city for too long. Nearly a year! Veronica has missed you terribly.”

Betty smiled, patting at Veronica’s arm. They glanced at each other, and the look was knowing. “I’ve missed her too. It’s good to be back.”

“I take it your family’s health has improved.” Betty’s family had their own ties, both to the Lodges and to crime, but a number of years ago they had ended up on the wrong side of a Blossom dispute and had been forced to flee town to save their hides. Betty was the only member of the Cooper family that was still welcome among the crime families, and it was largely due to Veronica’s -via Hiram’s- interference.

Betty and Veronica joined Hiram at his table, updating him with news and local gossip. Betty was sitting at most three paces away from where Jughead was still standing, and it took restraint for him to stay where he was.

It was well-known among the family that Jughead held a shine for Betty Cooper. From the first time he had met her, not long after allowing himself to be recruited by the Lodge family, he hadn’t been able to keep his clear admiration for her off his face. 

Luckily for them both, Betty had a good deal more sense. It was her ability to play at indifference that was their saving grace.

As she visited with the Lodges, Betty didn’t turn his way once, not even when she and Veronica collected themselves to leave. Jughead felt her absence when they were gone. He’d thought by now he would be used to it, she had been gone so long, but the room was brighter with her in it, whether he had her affection or not.

It was much, much later when he was given leave to go. Trading places with another, nameless, faceless, disposable man.

As always, he took the long way home, picking up takeout on the way. He gave himself time to be sure he hadn’t been followed before sliding into his apartment building through the back entrance.

In his apartment, Betty was sitting cushioned between pillows on the couch, in comfortable loungewear, all makeup clear from her face. In her arms, comfortably cradled in a fluffy colorful blanket, was a baby. Their baby.

She smiled at him as he approached, angling her chin up to meet him when he moved to kiss her. With his hand on her shoulder, he leaned down to leave another kiss on their daughter’s temple.

It was true that Betty hadn’t looked his way at first. She hadn’t noticed him at all until the day he had found her digging through Hiram’s documents when she’d thought no one was around. But loving someone was dangerous in their line of work.

“I have blood on my hands,” he’d said the first time she kissed him.

“So do I,” she’d responded. “Would you rather I not touch you?”

Betty could be stubborn. Once she decided she wanted something it was nearly impossible to convince her otherwise. The pregnancy hadn’t been planned. When she’d told him she was pregnant, he had pleaded with her. This would put them in danger, and how could they even hope to protect a child?

But Betty hadn’t folded. “I want this child, Jug. With or without you, but I’d prefer with you if you’re willing.”

The pregnancy had felt brutally long. He’d only been able to see her sparingly, sneaking away for a few days, claiming he was visiting his father out of town. On the day Betty went into labor, he’d been wracked with nerves, unable to be by her side because tensions were high with a Canadian smuggler, and Hiram wanted all his men on alert.

When he’d finally made it to Betty’s side that night, he had broken into tears. She had smiled, embraced him, kissed him. Then, she had introduced him to their daughter. 

He was still afraid. He would always be afraid. But from the moment he met her, he’d known he would spill blood for the sake of their little girl.


	31. Sleep Intimacy & Secret Relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trope mashup Sleep Intimacy & Secret Relationship (and There's only one bed)

It was just past midnight when there was a distinct rap on the hotel room door. Jughead had been laid out on the double bed he was sharing with Archie to cut costs, listlessly running through channels on the tv when he was interrupted by the noise.

As he pulled himself up, he called out to the door. “I told you not to forget your key, Arch…”

But it wasn’t Archie on the other side of the door, it was Betty. She’d changed out of the delicate pink dress she’d been wearing at the wedding into a soft pair of pajama pants and a simple t-shirt. Her face had been cleared of all make up. Jughead could make out nearly every freckle across her face.

“Hey,” she said with a sheepish smile. “So… Archie and Veronica are taking up our hotel room for the night.” Betty lifted herself up onto her toes to glance over his shoulder. “Could I stay here?”

With a roll of his eyes, he opened the door wide to let her in. She grinned and practically hopped her way into the room. “I don’t get why they didn’t just get a room together.”

This time Betty was the one to make a face. “You know they’re keeping things _quiet_ right now. I think they just don’t want to deal with their parents getting involved right now. Things got so messy after their last break up.”

“I remember.” As Betty sat down on the edge of the bed, Jughead moved over to the lounge chair, reaching over for one of the pillows from the bed.

“Oh,” Betty said quickly. “I didn’t mean- I can take the chair if you don’t want to share the bed.”

Jughead glanced up at her, still holding the pillow out in front of him. He knew Betty. If he pushed back and tried to leave her the bed, she’d only get more stubborn about it. If he was going to have to give in eventually anyway, better just to give in now, he figured. He threw the pillow back onto the bed, and collapsed back down onto the mattress.

Betty relaxed immediately, pulling herself to sit back against the headboard. Jughead turned his attention to the tv even though he’d completely lost track of the plot of the crime drama he’d left it on.

Once Betty had settled down further into the bed and the quiet between them had started to grow heavy, she spoke again. “The wedding was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jughead answered simply. He was happy for Mary and her new wife. They seemed like a good match. Archie smiled every time he spoke about them.

“You left the celebration pretty early…” she said when he let the conversation trail again.

He gave a low laugh and turned slightly to the side to face her. She was looking up at him, the side of her head buried into her pillow. Instinctively, he found himself whispering to her. “You know that’s not my kind of scene, Betts.”

She shrugged, the blanket cover sliding against her shoulders. “It’s not the same without your running commentary.”

“Thanks,” he said with amusement before turning back to the screen.

“Goodnight, Jug,” she said quietly, as she flipped over to face the wall.

Later, when he eventually turned off the TV, he felt her twist around to face him, her breathing still deep and quiet. With her warmth against his side, he counted her breaths until he fell asleep.


End file.
